


Red Stop Signs

by Germindis



Series: Red City [1]
Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Horror, Humor??, Other, Physical Abuse, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Sexual Abuse, Tentacles, Torture, Underfell Sans, i only have so many comforting blankets to hand out guys, meant to be read by absolute monstrous garbage only, please don't read this if it will damage you psychologically, soul torture, super gross, weird torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Germindis/pseuds/Germindis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Underfell Sans getting fucked up is my jam, who wants along for this ride? </p><p>Underfell au where Sans is actually a little spoiled by having 1 HP, in that no one has been able to physically mess with him without risking killing him. Except this guy, apparently.</p><p>There are tentacles later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why do you have a bag of dirt

Sans looked around, but his view was the same from every angle—folded cloth, directly over his eyes. Blindfolded, then. His arms were tied over his head. He tugged at them, testing the strength of the restraints, and confirmed he was as fucked as he expected.

 _Remember to give these jerkoffs their knot-tying badge later, they've earned it_ he quipped to himself. _Heh_. Papyrus would be mad at him for making light of the situation, and somehow that cheered him up.

Much to his serious younger brother's shame, this was getting to be a regular occurrence. Papyrus' new position in the royal guard came with quite a salary, Sans' laziness and lax attitude were known quantities, and the Grand Papyrus apparently had enough affection for his useless older brother that he would pay up without fail to return him safely. In a stark contrast to Papyrus' hard attitude about the rest of the Underground, Sans was the one monster who revealed the sliver of love hiding in Papyrus' soul. That was something that Papyrus could never forgive Sans for. It was something that Sans felt immense comfort and shame about. Yet somehow, despite his best (somewhat sleepy) efforts, this was the third time he'd been captured this month.

Fourth? Did the thing with Monster Kid and the gum on the floor count? He didn't want to count that. Not everyone who shouted “I'VE CAPTURED SANS THE SKELETON” after tripping somebody and then sitting on them was necessarily right by default, and it only took Sans about five minutes to get away.

You should be immobilized for at least six minutes or more to count as a capture, Sans was sure.

It used to be a lot easier to escape when Sans still had his shortcuts, but that avenue was closed to him after he stupidly lost those powers to Grillby in a poker game.

None of it spoke well to Sans' reputation, but it was his brother's reputation he was really concerned about. More than Papyrus' anger, what he hated to see was that split-second look of uncertainty and disappointment on Papyrus' otherwise unshakeable face. Sometimes the disappointment didn't even look like it was directed at Sans, and that just wasn't acceptable.

Sans' train of thought was interrupted by the sharp tap of footsteps. He heard a nearby door open—presumably to the cell he assumed he was in—and the footsteps drew closer. He felt body heat near his face, and then the pull of fabric as the blindfold was undone. Interesting. He thought his captors didn't want to reveal their faces to him so they could remain anonymous after this whole incident was through.

Seemingly reading Sans' confusion, the monster in front of him explained.

“Being deprived of senses is supposed to make monsters more afraid. But I get the feeling it's not doing anything with you, is it?”

Sans smirked at his captor.

"I guess it _would_  be easier to be afraid of you if I couldn't see you, long-ears.”

The monster before him was about twice as tall as him, but half as threatening, thanks to drawing the shortest straw in the genetics pool of the terrifying monsters of the Underground. He was a bunny.

Sans could feel the other monster “checking” him. That was never a good feeling. He didn't like the look that flashed in their eyes when they saw his measly one HP. But he did feel just slightly gratified by the way their face always fell a moment later when they realized this meant they wouldn't be able to kick him around for sport unless they wanted to lose their bargaining chip. Hell, even if they got frustrated with the deal and decided to kick him around anyway, it's not like they'd get much satisfaction from a single kick and then—poof.

It was a pathetic reason to be glad for his one HP, but Sans had to take his wins where he could.

But this monster's face didn't fall. Instead, a slick smile slid up nearly to the base of his long ears. It changed the cute face in a way that made Sans shudder involuntarily.

The monster considered Sans for a moment, a hand on his chin in a thoughtful expression. “I get it. I see now.” The monster nodded to himself. “You've never been tortured before.”

Sans didn't like where this was going.

“No wonder you weren't scared. It would seem _impossible_ to torture you. That is, if you're a cement-headed plebe with no creativity.”

Sans really didn't like where this was going. Overblown vocabularies and ego were not good combos with people who thought they could do things they really couldn't. Sans had a sudden and soul-freezing thought that he might not make it out of this alive, all because of this idiot thinking he was some special-snowflake “creative” sadist.

“Hah.” Sans was going to follow up his derisive laugh with a retort, but when the moment came and went he found that nothing else came out. The silence that followed transformed his laugh into a more pitiful reply than he intended. Impossibly, the bunny monster's grin widened.

“You have doubts. Don't worry _too_  much.” He knelt down and tucked a finger under Sans' chin, lifting his face. “I certainly won't kill you.”

“What exactly—“ Sans paused so his voice wouldn't stutter. “You just want money, don't you?”

The monster snorted. “Ohhh Sans.” He brushed a finger affectionately over Sans' jaw. Sans took a second too long deliberating over whether to snap at the finger when the monster removed his hand and jabbed his thumb back at the door in the far corner, indicating outside the cell. “ _They_ want money. _I'm_ here keeping you company while things are settled. Apparently it's taking a while.”

That was actually a bit unusual. It made Sans even more nervous. If Papyrus was settling things, everything was over and done like that. But if he'd finally grown tired of Sans disappointing him...if Sans had wasted the last bit of heart Papyrus had left to spare...

“So!” The monster clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly. “I assume you've never had dirt poured into your soul?”

Sans wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. Had he ever _what?_

“You don't seriously—“ Sans was cut off when his soul was frozen and pulled through his ribcage by magic. The unexpected sudden squeeze on his soul made him gag. The soft glow that emanated from it and fell over his clothes felt traitorous. It wasn't supposed to be out in the open like this. It was so delicate, unlike just about everything else in this world.

“Wait. You really can't do this. I mean, if I die in here—”

The monster held a finger to Sans' mouth in a shushing gesture. “Sans, Sans. You're in good hands. This will only be extremely unpleasant.”

The monster took a small bag out of his jacket, because yeah who didn't carry bags of dirt around for torture purposes, that made perfect sense, and he poured a bit of the dirt into one hand. Then he leaned over the soul, made a sound like he was going to hawk a loogie, and unceremoniously dribbled spit into the soul.

“The fu-” Sans choked on the curse. He felt, in more detail than he had ever bothered to consider the substance, saliva tendrils sticking and snapping as they dripped and pooled to the center of his soul. He could swear he even felt the miniscule air bubbles, and it was the just about the most disgusting thing he'd ever experienced.

“If I don't want the dirt to stick to the top, it needs a conduit,” the bunny explained...helpfully. He then tilted his handful of dirt over the soul. The first few granules stuck to the spit and slid inside.

Sans jerked hard against his hand restraints as his body ordered him to double over. He made a gagging noise that he didn't recognize as his own voice for a moment. He felt more dirt slide in, and his sight blacked out temporarily. He was only hazily aware of the blackout because the monster appeared to teleport from one position in front of him to another close beside him, leaning against the wall with him and holding up the bag as though it were some disguised hooch being shared between fellow street rats.

“Want another go?”

“n-no.”

“I think you do.” The monster jiggled the bag. Sans' eye flashed in panic.

“No!”

The monster tipped the bag so dirt was on the lip, about to fall.

“..…..please.”

The bunny swung a long leg over Sans' middle and settled over him in a crouched straddling position. He leaned his elbows on Sans' chest and cupped his face in his hands, the bag of dirt pressed against one cheek. “I'd like to hear why,” he said, a pleased grin stretching his face.

“You were....you were right.”

“About what?”

“I've never. Never been tortured before.”

“Well, that was exceedingly obvious, my dear.” Sans' head dipped. The monster grabbed Sans' chin again and tilted his face up. “I want to hear why in more detail.”

Sans couldn't bring his gaze up to look his captor in the face. This was going less than optimally. “What do you mean, more detail?”

“I want you to tell me how it felt, of course.”

Sans blanched. But it only took him a second to decide his pride wasn't worth having that done to him again. “It felt...bad.” He flinched at the monster's frown. “I don't...It's too much work, describing shit. I'm not good at it.”

“Evidently,” the monster grimaced. He rose to his feet and stared down his nose at Sans.

Sans shrunk under the hard gaze. But apparently, the bunny was interested enough in his own voice to let Sans' inadequate reply slide.

“You see, I've experimented before with things that don't reduce a monster's HP. Even monsters with an average amount of HP whittle down after a while, and no one wants to use all their food just for a good bit of torture. It's a waste of resources.”

“God forbid,” Sans muttered.

“I never got the chance to work with a monster with such low HP before. It's pretty exciting for me. You know...being right on the edge of life and death."

Sans twitched nervously.

"Your life, of course, not mine," the bunny added cheerfully. He started pacing, one hand to his chin.

"There's something I'd like to test on you...” his other hand started to glow, and his long shadow fell over Sans as he stopped in front of him. “You see, so long as you're not forming bullets, you can use a thin layer to penetrate a soul with magic.”

Sans' breath went out of him. He gasped hard as it came back a moment later. This was the time for his quick wit to save him, but his mind was a blank. “No...no no no no.”

Sans' panic pleased the bunny monster even more. “It's perfectly safe. I mean, I'm saying that, but honestly we don't know the long-term effects yet or if my magic will leave contaminant in your soul...anyway!” Sans' feet scrambled as he pushed himself hard into the wall behind him, trying to make himself as small as possible. The bunny squatted and leaned close to Sans' cowering form. The bunny held out the glowing hand, magic lighting up the tips of two fingers. “...let's give it a try.”

Against Sans' will, his soul was yanked on again and almost made contact with the bunny's fingers. The bunny lightly tickled the surface, giving Sans a jolt. Sans' breathing came out uneven as he tried not to let his chest rise and meet the outstretched fingers.

“Don't. Don't. Don't don't don't. Let go of me.”

“There, now.”

The bunny shoved the fingers through. Sans gasped but wished he could have screamed. It might have helped ease the awful, stinging tension.

“That's not so bad, is it?” the bunny cooed, giving a little tug on the inside of San's soul. Sans felt the world spin in a fit of nausea. He had to vomit, but there was nothing in his stomach. Instead, just a line of acidic-tasting drool dribbled out of his mouth, his eyes rolling up. His whole body was shaking with the intense need to expel the invasion. The fingers must have been in there for hours. Except...

“28....29....30.” The bunny stopped a stopwatch Sans didn't remember him holding before. He then gently pulled the fingers out. What looked like some remaining spit clung from the soul to the removed digits. “Thirty seconds. You really hung in there like a trooper.”

The bunny smiled and reached into his jacket, pulling out a bandaid. He peeled the protective paper from it and laid it on the punctured spot on the soul, smoothing it on with his thumbs.

“Th-thir...thirty....?” Sans got out through heaving breaths.

“Thirty seconds, yes. Time stands still for pain, doesn't it? I wouldn't worry about it if it's not the record you were hoping on setting.” The bunny nudged San's nasal ridge with his button nose. Sans' body was too wracked with exhaustion for him to muster any indignity. The trembling wouldn't stop.

“Now I _know_ you don't want me to do that again.” The bunny slammed one hand on the wall beside Sans' head. Sans weakly pushed himself as flat against the wall as he could get. The bunny's other hand gave one long stroke down the back of Sans' still exposed soul, and Sans whimpered. “And definitely not for, say..." he picked up the stopwatch again and glanced down at it. "Thirty minutes?" Sans' whole body froze.  "So why don't you go ahead and beg me for mercy.”

Sans opened his mouth, but only kept breathing heavily for a moment. When he tried to speak, he let out a sob. His pupils contracted and his expression turned distant. “B-boss.” He closed in on himself in terror. “p-p-papyrus. papyrus save me.” He kept sobbing, breath hitching in rough hiccoughs. The bunny rocked back on his heels and tilted his head onto his fist, apparently enjoying the sobs as though they were a rich ambient music.

“Shhh. Hush.” The bunny leaned forward again, face almost touching Sans'. He held Sans' head in both hands and spoke in a low whisper. “You're not very good at following directions, are you?”

Sans' sobbing stopped suddenly. His eyes darted up to meet the other monster's eyes.

“Do I look like Papyrus to you?” The bunny asked, sliding one hand down Sans' face and pressing it on his chest, molecules away from brushing against the soul. Sans felt like he had stopped breathing. The bunny's hand twitched, but still didn't touch the soul. Sans trembled. “Who were you supposed to beg?”

“Ah-” Sans tried to get any other noise out of his mouth, anything that sounded at all like words, but it was like he'd forgotten how to speak. He moved his mouth voicelessly a moment longer before giving up on that and merely shaking his head fearfully.

“No?” The bunny's hand closed around the fabric of Sans' shirt and twisted it. Sans flinched and moved his mouth again, but still wasn't able to produce a word. The best he could do with some effort was to give a high whine.

Suddenly, the bunny's darkened expression softened and he looked eminently pleased once more. “Ohhh. You can't even speak.”

The bunny removed his hand from the threatening spot near Sans' soul and allowed the soul to release and phase back into Sans' chest. The bunny wrapped his arms over Sans' shoulders and stroked the back of his head.

“You poor thing. I think that's enough for today.”

Sans wanted so badly to retort. Wanted to _want_ to retort, to spit, to bite, anything but shivering in the bunny monster's arms and letting out one more wet hiccough.

The bunny stood up and smoothed out his jacket coat. He looked down at Sans as though he were a science project he was proud of completing admirably.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” the bunny said in a sing-song, then traipsed out of the cell and softly shut the door with a tell-tale click indicating a locking mechanism. After the door closed, Sans could see a small red light glaring at him from up in the corner.

Sans wanted to pass out, but his thoughts and residual phantom sensations kept him up for a long while later.

 


	2. Where are we going

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter. I was more capable than I anticipated of irresponsibly ignoring work and writing this instead.

Papyrus wasn't going to come for him. No one was going to come for him.

Sans knocked the back of his head against the wall. The fabric of the blindfold dulled the sound of bone on metal. Sans had woken up with the blindfold on once more, and he wasn't sure how long he'd slept or how long he'd been here after he woke up. He tried to keep count of the minutes a few times, but always got too lazy to keep it up.

At last, the sound of the cell door opening broke the monotony. The familiar tap of that bastard bunny's shoes made Sans' whole body rigid with tension. He remembered what the bunny said before about how depriving a monster of sight increased their fear. He felt ashamed that it was working on him after being told about it. But not knowing what object the bunny had in his hands that was now caressing his cheek—not knowing how close the bunny's mouth was to him until he heard a chuckle right by his head, felt the gust of breath—even being aware of the games being played with him couldn't stop Sans from freezing at the unwelcome touches.

Then, he heard a click and felt his arms release from the shackles above his head. The object in the bunny's hand had been a key.

Sans' wrists were still bound together, despite no longer being tethered to the wall. He didn't dare stretch his arms even though they ached terribly. He let the other monster lower his arms for him, until they were settled in his lap. Sans didn't move himself from that position.

The bunny sighed and stroked the side of Sans' face fondly. “I hate goodbyes. The powers-that-be decided we need to ditch you.”

Sans grimaced in response, but secretly thought this was good news for him. Maybe his captors were low on funds and couldn't afford to hang onto a prisoner so long as the deal wasn't working out. Maybe...and Sans barely dared to hope...Papyrus was so hot on their trail that they had to get rid of any evidence that they ever had a hold of Sans. He'd end up blindfolded in an anonymous alley somewhere, and he'd be one step closer to home.

Sans didn't get the impression that he was going to be killed—he was certain the bunny wouldn't be able to resist telling him _that_ news if it meant getting one last terrified reaction out of him. For fear that he wouldn't get _exactly_ the future he wanted, Sans tried not to picture too vividly the disgusting smile finally melting off of the bunny's face as Papyrus blasted him to dust, along with anyone else involved in this horrifying experience. Sans didn't want to be disappointed, after all.

Sans was surprised to hear another monster's footsteps in the room. The other monster said nothing, but Sans could hear panting. The panting monster hefted Sans up by his underarms and set his feet on the ground. Sans was relieved that he would apparently be allowed to walk himself instead of being carried. Normally, he would take any option that meant less work or exercise for him, but the less any of these monsters touched him the better.

The three of them set out on a long walk. Sans wasn't familiar enough with the sounds around them to place where they were in the Underground, which was in a way its own tell. There were few places in the Underground he hadn't been. The Capital was probably the only place big enough that Sans hadn't fully explored it via his old shortcut power.

They walked for so long that Sans' energy quickly flagged. It didn't help that he hadn't been fed since his capture. He didn't exactly need food to live, but if his energy dropped low enough, eventually he wouldn't be able to move at all.

The panting monster hoisted Sans up and cradled him in its arms, continuing to walk as it held him. Sans' flinched, but didn't struggle. He felt hot breath on the top of his head. Without warning, a warm tongue slipped into his mouth and licked his teeth. He didn't even have the energy to bite down. He whimpered at the intrusion, and that was the last thing he could remember before fitful sleep overtook him.

Sans regained consciousness, but not sight. He was still being cradled bridal style by the panting monster, and they were still on the move. The sound of the surroundings had changed so drastically, he was too disoriented to make a mental map.

“Where are we going...?” he asked groggily.

The bunny monster replied. “We're dropping you off with a contact.”

That took Sans off-guard. Since things seemed to be going poorly for his captors, he hadn't anticipated them having any sort of connections, much less ones they could stash a prisoner with. Sans concentrated again on the sounds around them.

He thought he recognized the way their footsteps reverberated here, and the distant sound of falling rocks.

At that moment, a memory came back to him.

He was very young, still living with Gaster, and always testing his limits. He'd decided it was a good day for a swim, specifically in the chamber of Waterfall that Gaster always stressed he avoid at all costs. He skipped down the hall, emboldened by the sound of rushing water and the thrill of rule-breaking.

He approached the edge of a pool of dark water, stripping off his shirt in one quick motion and taking a running leap the rest of the way to the pool. He plunged in and buoyed up to the surface, spitting out a stream and treading water. He couldn't tell how deep the pool was, but he knew his feet were nowhere near touching the bottom, even at the nadir of his dive.

He splashed around for only a moment longer before something with a tight grip slithered around his ankle. It gave a harsh tug, and Sans was pulled beneath the surface briefly before being allowed to break the surface again. He coughed out a mouthful of water. He tried to reach down to his leg to see if he could loosen the grip on it, but he was tugged underwater again. This time he didn't resurface. Starting to panic, he struggled in earnest, the grip around his ankle tightening as he felt more slithering limbs reaching for him. Then there was a flash of light from above the surface, and the grip on his legs released. Strong bony hands yanked Sans to the surface and he was met with Gaster's stern face.

Before Sans could say anything, Gaster gathered him up into his arms and fled the chamber like a man on fire. He didn't slow down until they were nearly to the exit of Waterfall. He lowered Sans to the ground and looked down at him with an expression Sans couldn't read at all.

Sans thought he was about to be in for the worst punishment of his life, but instead Gaster dropped to his knees and pulled Sans into an embrace. Gaster pulled away from him to look him in the eye. His father wore another strange expression. Gaster read his son's confusion and let out a laugh that sounded like a sob. He held Sans to him again.

“Oh god you don't even know. You don't even know what almost happened. Thank goodness you're all right.”

Gaster's words echoed back to Sans now as he heard the rush of water and the lapping of a pool.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leavin you haaaangin~
> 
> Comments are always appreciated.


	3. We can't play rough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a tiny edit to chapter one because I forgot about something. That's what I get for publishing the first draft.
> 
> Make sure you check the warning tags for the fic, and if there's anything in there you're not up for, now's the time to hightail it out of here. No one's gonna think less of you (because you're a better person) 
> 
> Now, things start to get Worse.

The blindfold was yanked off of Sans' face. He was in the chamber in Waterfall.

The pool was enshrouded in darkness. Two giant circles, bigger than Sans' whole body, glowed reflectively in the dark, almost like a cat's—it took Sans about that long to realize he was looking into an immense creature's eyes. He could barely make out the beast's outline; it was a slightly darker shadow than the surrounding gloom. It appeared to only be the top of a head peering out of the water, but compared to Sans, even just the head was massive.

A burble came up from the water, and a surprisingly soft voice spoke.

“Hello Sans. You grew up, but you still smell the same, did you know that?”

Sans stood rooted to the spot.

Undulating shapes bobbed in the water, approaching the edge of the pool. The monster's long tentacles were inching over to Sans like giant mindless worms. They even left a sticky trail as they crawled onto the platform above the pool.

The temporary paralysis was replaced with a rush of adrenaline. Sans raced to the exit. The bunny clothes-lined him and caught him by his hood before he could fall flat on his back. He froze Sans' soul, but Sans continued to wriggle uselessly in his grip. In his panic, Sans didn't think to wonder where the panting monster had disappeared to.

“Don't leave me here. Take me back, I don't care. Don't leave me in here.” His hands scrabbled against the bunny's arm like a rat in a glass cage.

“I appreciate it, my dear, but I have my orders.” The bunny tilted his head and regarded Sans fondly. “Unfortunately.”

The bunny pulled his arm back and lobbed Sans into the pool. The handcuffs were still on, and Sans couldn't make himself break the surface by only kicking his legs. A tentacle wrapped around his middle and pushed him up. After shaking the water off his face, Sans saw the bunny calling from the exit. “Goodbye, Sans! I'm sure we'll meet again!”

The bunny left and the room was quiet again except for the water rhythmically splashing the platform. Sans took his first good look at the monster holding him, or as good a look as he figured he'd get in the dark room. The monster was a giant octopus, although Sans could swear he saw the shadows of more than eight limbs darting in the water.

“We haven't seen each other in such a long time. I thought maybe you forgot about me. But it looks like you didn't.”

A tentacle pulled down on the collar of Sans' shirt to reveal the light of his rapidly beating soul. Sans reached up with his shackled hands as though he could pull the monster's huge limb away from him.

“You won't be needing these.” More tentacles gripped the handcuffs and easily snapped them off of Sans' wrists.

The raw show of power made Sans swallow audibly. It also made him think twice about resisting as the same tentacles took his wrists behind his back and coiled around them. Another tentacle wrapped lightly around his neck, and more reached for his legs and lifted them from under his knees. He was being held up horizontally like he was resting in some grotesque hammock, his knees only slightly above the level of his head. The octopus monster's great head peered at Sans through his spread legs.

“I figure we can catch up later, after a bit of overdue business, you know?”

Sans saw something bob out of the water that at first he thought was another tentacle, but couldn't be—it was thicker and was covered in sharp barbs from the tip to as much of it as could be seen above the water. The octopus lined the thing up between Sans' legs, aiming the tip at the middle of his pelvis. A tentacle started to tug at Sans' shorts by the waistband.

Sans was struck with a horrifying realization. “Oh god oh—CHECK, YOU ASSHOLE.”

The monster was too shocked by the outburst to look even slightly angry. Thankfully, after a moment's tense pause, Sans felt himself being checked. His relief spoiled as he saw, for the second time in his life, a very unsettling smile stay plastered on another monster's face after seeing the 1 HP.

“It looks like we can't play rough,” the monster said. The barbed appendage disappeared back underwater. “That's all right. I can be gentle.” The monster's tone filled Sans with cold dread. He wished that he had normal HP. Maybe being tortured like a normal monster wasn't so bad. 

A tentacle slipped into Sans' shorts, traveled up through the gap in his pelvis, and slid up his spine. Sans felt a tremor up his spine that wouldn't resolve itself. The tentacle reached his neck, then slid back down to settle inside his ribcage, stroking down the spine along the way. The powerful stroke would have felt good if it weren't tainted by the threat that the huge limb inside him posed. As it was, small noises of protest bubbled out of Sans' throat.

The tentacle in his ribcage wrapped around his soul and started to tug it down, back the way the tentacle had come. Sans let out a panicked gurgle.

“Easy, easy. I'm not going to crush it.” The tentacle positioned the soul at the lower part of Sans' pelvis where his thighs met, in the place another monster's genitals would be. “I think it's better here, is all.”

The tentacle released the soul where it was and stroked the surface, or what passed for a surface of the coalescence of magic. Sans choked as he flashed back to the feeling of granules of dirt stuck on saliva, of fingers pressing inside and swirling and tugging and—

“No no no please, I—d-don't want to do this, please, please-” he was cut off by the squeeze of a tentacle around his middle.

“You're so spoiled. You think anyone else cares what you want?” The tentacle touching his soul stroked in circles like a finger playing at the lip of a bottle.

Sans braced himself for the nauseating pain. He felt the tentacle slipping into his soul. He clenched his jaw, but the pain didn't come. There was a feeling there, and he wouldn't describe it as pleasant—his soul still felt distressed by the intrusion, and it was, how could he describe it—somehow slimy? But there was no pain.

Sans wanted to ask when it was going to start hurting, but he didn't want to encourage any kind of escalation if this was as bad as it was going to get. The octopus seemed to read his confusion anyway.

“That bunny probably hurt you pretty bad, didn't he? He's got, like...a thing. But I told you I can be gentle. With souls and magic, it's all about intention, you know.” The tentacle massaged the walls of the soul like it was stroking a sexual organ, and the soul replied in kind. A pulse of pleasure emanated from it, and Sans instinctively tried to squeeze his legs together.

“Relax. Open your legs more.”

Sans tried to speak through clenched teeth. “I c-can't relax. I haven't relaxed once in my life.”

The octopus smiled. “Maybe this will help.”

Tentacles slithered up Sans' thighs and Sans kicked his legs out in reply.

“Don't be so troublesome. This is going to feel good.”

Sans couldn't withhold his anger. “You and your “good feelings” can _fuck off!”_

The octopus' face darkened. “You'd better watch your tone.”

“OR WHAT, YOU'LL KILL ME? TORTURE ME? _HA!_ ” Even as Sans said it, tears poured down his cheeks. He wilted, humiliated by the whole situation. “Why won't you j-just get this over with? Get it over with or...just kill me, if you're gonna kill me.”

“Didn't I tell you before? No one cares what you want.” Tentacles pulled Sans' thigh bones apart forcefully and rubbed between his legs. Another tentacle slid into his soul and the pleasurable feeling was replaced with sick fear. As the other monster had put it, the “intention” behind the invasion of his soul had changed, and the abrupt mood shift made Sans break out in an icy sweat. The other monster's magic was manipulating his reactions from the inside. He felt the tentacle thrust into his soul, and it was like his fear had become a tangible, tactile sensation, coated in slime and palpitating like an overworked heart. Sans' breathing sped up and his whole body convulsed.

The tentacle gave another firm thrust. Sans gasped and finally found his words.

“N-no, I didn't—I didn't mean it, I—I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, stop—pleaaaAH!—please stop!”

The tentacle gave a few more quick thrusts that made Sans cry out and kick his legs uncontrollably. Then the movement stopped as quickly as it started. Sans peered warily at the monster's face between his legs.

The octopus wore a smug expression that said:  _I'm stopping because you asked nicely, but even if you beg I decide exactly when we stop_. Without warning, the tentacle pulled out of the soul with a watery popping noise. Sans felt like his soul was leaking its essence where it had been punctured. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

“Now I think it's about time I got something out of this, don'tcha think?”

Sans heard a splash of water. He tiredly raised his head to look.

The barbed appendage had resurfaced. Sans felt it rest between his thighs, but turned his head away. His whole body shook. He didn't want to look at it, to think about it. Maybe he could think about something else in this moment before he died. Something other than how this was probably the most horrible way he could die.

He heard a rustling, clicking noise, and felt the appendage resting on his pubis bone turn smooth. Against his better judgment, he looked up again. The barbs had all smoothed out. Retracted?

“How did—” Sans began, but stopped himself, worried he might actually be told about this creature's anatomy.

“Ready to feel good again?” the creature asked. It sounded more like an order than a question, but when met with silence, the monster frowned. Sans meekly nodded his head.

What he guessed was the creature's member rubbed up against his soul. A little static burst flashed from the soul, and the pleasure was back. Sans was too tired out from being afraid to feel much shame at this point. The member rubbed harder. Sans' hips automatically bucked up to meet the friction, and he didn't try to hold it back. He'd decided it was about time to do what he did best and simply give up. Maybe he could even enjoy this if he could let himself forget the details of what was happening and concentrate on feeling instead.

A tentacle dipped into his soul again, pumping inside to the same rhythm of the organ rutting up against him. A hot, tight feeling was gathering at his groin. The pleasure pulsed in waves as the pace increased to shorter, faster thrusts. Sans let his tongue loll out and his eyes rolled up. A few more thrusts brought him to orgasm, spots dancing in his vision, the tentacle inside his swollen soul continuing with a gentler pumping motion to ride out the rest of the orgasm.

The member kept rutting against the soul's surface for a while until it suddenly slid off, and the tip was pressed into the soul. Sans could feel some kind of slime being released inside him in forceful spurts. The sensation was almost enough to make him come again. A tentacle slipped into his mouth as the member pushed gently into the soul. It was pulsing, filling him with warmth. It pumped inside him harder and his soul clenched around it, pulsing in sync. Sans moaned around the tentacle in his mouth as he was made to come a second time.

After his body had a chance to unclench, the member finally slid out of him and the tentacle was removed from his mouth.

“Good. Very good,” the monster purred. He took up Sans' soul in a tentacle and placed it carefully back inside the ribcage. Sans gained back enough awareness to feel revulsion at the way _something_ kept dripping from his soul down to his spine. “How are you feeling? Good?”

Sans didn't have to try too hard not to make a stupid retort, but he couldn't think of anything acceptable he could say, either. For some reason, giving a simple “yes” didn't occur to him, and if it did, he wouldn't have been sure if he was lying or not. Instead of saying anything, he just stared back at the other monster with dazed, glassy eyes.

The octopus started to lower Sans and released his grip on his legs, letting them dangle over the water. “You're going to be fun to train, I can tell. I'm going to make you good for something, you know?”

_Train?_ Exactly how long did this monster expect Sans to be left here?

...how long should _Sans_ expect to be left here? His original captors didn't make it clear. The bunny did mention they'd been compelled to “ditch” him, but surely that didn't mean...

Sans was lowered under the water completely. As his descent continued, a cage materialized out of the gloom of the watery depths. He was placed inside, the door closed and locked after him. Thankfully Sans didn't need to breath to live, but the way he floated to the top of the cage and pressed against it, nothing supporting him below but buoyancy, was fairly uncomfortable. Sans stared up at the wavering lights of the surface.

He wasn't going to be stuck here. He'd get out somehow. Papyrus always told him not to jump to hopeless conclusions. He got so irritated with what he called Sans' “defeatist attitude.” Maybe he could try to think like the Boss, and that would pull him through this.

But maybe what the Boss was thinking right now was “keep the worthless idiot for all I care.”

The image was so unsteady it might have been illusion, but Sans thought he could see a tiny red light glaring at him from above the surface of the water, originating from a high corner of the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it through that chapter, I have the feeling you and me, we're in this together. Rowing our sin boat down the Styx. Here's our theme song: https://vine.co/v/eIi1aWjBI3E
> 
> here's my tumblr if you're on the tumbles: http://germindis-leechlamp.tumblr.com/


	4. tell me how it feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have this longer chapter full of sin, it gets pretty bad. Again, no one will be hurt if you back out now. And if not then ENJOY, FELLOW SINNER

 

As Sans stared up at the wavering surface of the water, he made a decision. During the day he'd keep his head down, do as he was told, and just survive. Be a model prisoner. It wasn't worth it to waste any more energy talking back—in the end, it didn't matter what opinion this monster had of his courage, so long as he got out of this. At night he'd start to plan. Figure a way out.

...he'd start planning tomorrow night, if he weren't rescued by then. Tonight he was completely drained of energy. He still hadn't eaten anything, and the multiple orgasms had put his soul over the edge as far as magic went. He just needed to rest a little. Maybe if he could wake up early, before the octopus, he'd have some peaceful time to himself to think.

The pinprick of red light above the surface continued to perturb Sans through the night, and followed him into restless dreams. It became his brother's eyes, glowering down at him in disapproval. That was the look he got the last time Papyrus bought him out of a kidnapping.

_“You're a disgrace! How could you care so little about this? You put up absolutely no resistance, and I have to bail your sorry ass out of trouble again?” Papyrus had worked himself up into a fury. “What do you have to say for yourself?”_

_“...I'm really useless, Boss. Sorry.”_

_Papyrus didn't look like that was the response he wanted. He sighed and crossed his arms. His next words were much quieter than Sans was used to him speaking, but he was absolutely sure it's what he said, because it was etched into his memory like a stone carving. “...I'm glad you're back safe.”_

Sans woke up outside of the water.

The cage had been lifted out of the water as well, but it was across the room from him, now occupied by a small mouse monster.

Sans was sitting propped up against a wall. Nothing was holding him there, but a brief scan of the room revealed the octopus monster also awake and looking at him intently.

“I had to shift things around a little this morning. We had a drop-off. They won't be here long.”

Sans looked at the mouse monster again. It was shivering and refusing to look up. Sans didn't allow himself to think too hard about what it was doing here, instead taking the chance to glance at the exit, calculating how fast he could be right now versus how far from the edge of the pool the octopus was floating. There were a few problems with his calculation—he didn't know how long the octopus' tentacles were under the water, and they could be much closer to being able to grab him than the creature's visible body made it seem.

And in addition to that, Sans didn't think he'd ever been so hungry in his life. He'd only just woken up, but already hit the limit of his energy for the day, and not a single part of him responded to the mental command to move. Not even to wiggle and fall over in utter defeat. He remained stationed as he was.

The octopus' voice broke through his internal dilemma. “For the first part of your training today, you're going to come to me yourself, without me having to grab you,” it said.

Sans looked over at him, the lights in his eye sockets dim. “Can't.” 

“You can't?” The monster repeated, an ominous expression on his face.

“Tired. Hungry.” Even those short words were digging into his nonexistent reserves. His eyes drooped.

“That bunny didn't feed you?”

Sans snorted. “S'not like I'm gonna starve,” he slurred. “Food would be a waste of...resources...” He was starting to drift back into sleep.

The octopus sighed. “Figures. Oh well. That just leads into the next part of training.” He picked Sans up and wrapped tentacles around his middle, unnecessarily securing his arms to his sides. The octopus wore a concentrated, searching expression for a moment before dredging up a cooler from the pool with another tentacle. He opened it to reveal colorful packaged foods and drinks.

A tentacle selected a large, bubbly drink, twisted off the lid and offered it to Sans like a baby bottle. Without the use of his hands, there was little Sans could do but accept the position. After the first few gulps, though, it wasn't the indignity of the situation that made him sputter, but the taste.

No...it didn't exactly taste off, but it _felt_ off. A small amount of energy was returning to him, but it wasn't accompanied by the usual feeling of magic being replenished. Aside from that, the drink felt somehow heavy once he'd swallowed it, like it was still sitting in him. But that wasn't right at all. Sans weighed the benefits of saying something.

He moved his head slightly, and the octopus pulled the bottle away from his mouth so it wouldn't spill. It waited for Sans to speak.

“Are these drinks uh...old? I think there's something wrong with them.”

“They're fine. I have someone scavenge the dump to get them for me.” The octopus twirled the bottle on a tentacle, then shoved it back in Sans' mouth. “I collect sodas.”

'Fresh from the dump' was only a half-joking saying of the Underground that Sans usually felt at home with, but in this case he wasn't sold on the laissez faire attitude. The octopus wouldn't take the bottle away from his mouth again until he'd obediently downed the whole liter, which took some time. The octopus didn't seem to mind the slow pace. He hummed to himself and stroked down Sans' neck to his collar bone as he fed him. Finally, he popped the bottle out of his mouth, and Sans coughed.

“I feel s-sick.”

“You're probably not used to human food.”

“Human-” Sans coughed again. “But doesn't that mean that it—”

“It goes all the way through, yeah. You don't just absorb it like monster food, so it'll come out later.”

Sans looked around the chamber.

“...you know there aren't any—”

“There aren't any bathrooms in the Underground, no. Yeah, I know that.”

Sans squirmed. The octopus looked altogether unconcerned. It reached back into the cooler and took out a pastry. He waggled it enticingly in Sans' face, but Sans eyed it warily. The octopus giggled.

“This one's monster food, trust me. The last time I tested solid human food on someone, Woshua got really mad at me.” He pushed the donut up to Sans' closed mouth. “It's for your magic. We're gonna need a little today.” Sans reluctantly opened his mouth and took a bite. The feeling of normal food was such a relief that he gobbled the rest of it, forgetting his caution.

As Sans finished the last bite, the octopus pressed the tentacle to Sans' mouth, encouraging him to lick the crumbs. Sans hesitated for a second before doing so as quickly as possible, to get the moment over with. The octopus grinned.

“Now then. 'Master' is a little too intense to begin with, so how about for now you call me Sir.”

Sans felt his soul give a rebellious quiver. He reminded himself that the plan was to keep his head down today and play along. One satisfying outburst wasn't worth that sickening feeling in his soul from the other day, and being too worn out to put anything into action once the day was over.

He tried to think of something to distract himself from his anger and suddenly remembered the mouse in the cage. He gave it another look. It was so quiet, he'd forgotten its presence. That it was here seeing all this unfold. It didn't look inclined to voyeurism, though. It was huddled up with its arms around its knees, large ears pressed down, as though it were intent on shutting itself off from the world.

“Sans.” The octopus sounded impatient. “How about trying it out?”

Sans attempted to make himself sound stupid instead of disrespectful. “...trying...?”

“Calling me Sir.”

Sans' eyes were still fixed on the mouse monster. Was it trying not to notice Sans back? Was it in for the same treatment later? “Yessir.”

“While looking at me, Sans.”

Sans turned his face to the huge face in front of him, and just as he'd feared, his body's immediate reaction to looking him in the eye was to start trembling uncontrollably. He did his best to keep his voice steady.

“Yes sir.”

“Good.”

Tentacles shifted over Sans as they held him in a new position. He was kept upright this time, but tentacles pulled his wrists together behind his back, like the other night. They also wrapped around under his knees, but only for support, and not to pull on them or restrain them. A tentacle remained coiled around his middle as the main support holding him above the water.

“I'm going to give you some rules to follow today. You'll tell me how you're feeling as we go. Tell me when I make you feel good. You're also gonna have to tell me when you've gotta go.” He gave Sans' middle a squeeze, and Sans squirmed nervously. “And you'll tell me when you're gonna come. Then you'll tell me when you're coming.”

Sans tried not to reveal his disgust. “I-isn't that—”

“They're different things.”

Sans couldn't help it. He looked over at the monster in the cage again. It was in the same position as before, but he caught a flash of movement that suggested it had been looking at them a moment ago and only just now had quickly turned away. Sans felt sick, and it was probably only partially due to the human drink still sloshing inside him.

Instead of admonishing him, the octopus held Sans' face with a tentacle and slowly turned it back to look at him straight on.

“The last rule is, you can beg me for more, but you can't beg me to stop. Oh, don't look so scared, it's not like I'll be hurting you.” He traced the tentacle under Sans' jaw. “Do tell me if anything hurts, though. It shouldn't.”

The tentacles holding him tightened their grip, and more tentacles slipped under his clothes. In a second, every part of him was being rubbed or stroked in a soothing rhythm. His face began to heat up. There was a responsive pulse from his soul as it remembered the pleasurable feelings of the previous night, but his body continued to tremble, distrustful of the gentle touches of the giant, dangerous limbs.

A tentacle pulled his shorts down from the waist and left them hugging his knees.

“Sans, how are you feeling right now?”

Sans didn't give an answer for a few moments as he tried to think of something innocuous to say, and quickly decided that coming up with lies to save his dignity would take too much effort. The truth came easier, even if it betrayed him.

“I'm....scared. I'm really scared.”

The soothing strokes turned less sensual, focusing instead on rubbing his back in a way that triggered a primal memory of familial reassurance. Sans wasn't sure why this in particular was the first act of the day to get a lump to rise in his throat and bring him on the verge of tears, but he would have rather dipped himself in acid than start crying in that moment.

“There's nothing to be scared of. We're gonna have fun, okay? I'm not going to use your soul this time.”

Sans felt some relief despite himself. “...you're not?”

“Nah. You're gonna use your magic to make yourself a little pussy.”

Sans took a second to really understand what was said to him. He'd heard of monsters like him, who were born without the same equipment as the typical flesh and blood monsters, using magic to emulate flesh anatomy and please their partners. He'd never tried it before himself. When he got the urge, he tended to go for the path of least resistance and masturbate using his soul.

As for partners, well, dating was a pain. Sans probably would have accepted if anyone appealing had approached him, but the only solicitations he'd gotten in the past came from monsters he was sure would cost him a medical visit after a romp with them. He'd thought venereal disease was something he'd lucked out of entirely, what with being a skeleton, but after one day when Alphys mysteriously shoved a box of magic condoms and dental dams on him and mumbled that he needed to be careful about “a recent outbreak of magic sores,” Sans had pretty much thrown in the towel on the whole idea.

When he'd put together what was being asked of him now, he only stared, not sure how to start this conversation. The octopus stared back. The situation might have been comical if it weren't for the horrific circumstances. After a moment, the octopus' mouth widened in amused shock.

“...don't tell me you've never seen one.”

“Where would I have?”

The octopus broke into a grin that looked like it should have cleaved its face in two. “I think I like that, actually. Guess I'll be showing you the ropes.”

He lifted up Sans' shirt and stuck a tentacle in his soul. Sans was too startled to feel fear at the intrusion. He felt the foreign magic taking hold of his. “Here's a blueprint. Make it like this next time.” Sans' magic collected at his pelvis and took a soft shape. He felt wetness between his legs, and the gap between his thighs no longer felt right to him. It reminded him of the ungainly feel of the mouth guard he used to wear to prevent himself from grinding his teeth at night.

The octopus lifted Sans to a position right over his face, tentacles spreading Sans' legs so that his knees braced the sides of the giant face. He lowered Sans so his new ghostly anatomy brushed against his mouth. For the moment, the trembling in Sans' lower body had little to do with fear.

“Now, remember to tell me when you need to go. Because if you pee while I hold you like this,” the octopus' face spread in a threatening smile, “I'll be really mad at you. ♥ ” A shudder went down Sans' spine.

At first Sans had the insane impression that the octopus was keeping a huge slug monster in its mouth, until he saw it was just his tongue. The way it curled out of his mouth made it look sentient. The tongue pressed up between Sans' legs, slowly lapping up and down. The slow pace started as a relief, as Sans didn't feel he was in much danger of losing control, but it grew more tortuous as it continued. Every once in a while, in unpredictable, irregular intervals, the lapping changed to an undulating motion like a wave on the sea. It made Sans' head spin.

The octopus paused and pulled away only just enough so Sans could still feel breath tickling the magic between his legs. “Do I have to keep reminding you, Sans? How does this make you feel?”

Sans' face was burning up. He was either at a complete loss for how to describe his mix of reactions, or he unconsciously willed himself to forget how descriptions worked in order to save him some humiliation. There was something he could almost put words to, but one of the two reasons was preventing it.

“I bet you want my tongue inside you.”

That was it.

The octopus wore a wicked grin, apparently taking the uncomfortable silence as confirmation. He curled tentacles tighter around Sans' thighs right where they met the pelvis. A thin, slimy thread still connected the cunt to the octopus' mouth, the substance coming either from saliva or Sans' arousal, he wasn't sure he wanted to know which.

“I'll be easy on you this time, since everything's new. But next time you'd better tell me how you're feeling when I do this,” the tentacles around Sans' thighs squeezed tighter, then loosened slightly again.

The octopus pulled Sans back onto his mouth, and his tongue prodded at the little nub of his clit, then licked it roughly. Sans gasped and doubled over, his chest and head resting between the octopus' eyes. The octopus continued tonguing the clit for too short a time before forcing the tip of his tongue into the hole.

Sans almost wished that it hurt instead when he caught himself moving his hips along as the tongue fucked him. He allowed himself a merciful moment to slip away into the raw feelings, letting moans and breathy gasps escape his throat.

The tentacles holding his thighs apart gave a sensual squeeze. The feeling fell into rhythm so perfectly with the way the tongue was pressing and dipping inside him that for a second he forgot that it was also a signal for him to speak.

“It f-feels good,” he managed to get out. The tentacles squeezed again.  Sans couldn't think of anything descriptive to add, so he kept letting the truth come out.  “It feels really good, and I...I don't want to think about it. I don't want to do this.”

The tongue immediately withdrew and Sans was snapped out of the pleasurable haze.  The octopus pulled Sans away from his face, dangling him in front of him.

“You know, Sans.” A tentacle lifted his shirt and another stroked a rib, far too close to his soul. “The reason I told you that you can't beg me to stop is because no one wants to hear they're doing so badly that you have to beg them not to pleasure you. You could hurt someone's feelings.” The tentacle slipped under Sans' rib cage, but he'd said he wouldn't do anything with—he said he would go easy on him, that he wouldn't—

Sans tried to get a response out, but only whimpered.

“You're not going to make that mistake again, are you?”

Sans shook his head.

“Good. Now address me like I told you. You won't make that mistake again, right?”

“....no, sir.” The intensity of the interrogation made Sans wriggle. Pressure had been building near his groin in a very unfamiliar way. He pressed his legs together. The octopus noticed and gave him a stern look. Sans tried to jump start his mind from its dead stop, reaching for what it was he was supposed to do here.

“I...have to go?” Sans admitted as much to himself as to the other monster, still not entirely certain what the sensations meant.

“I want you to hold it.” As if to test him, the tentacle wrapped around his middle slid down and squeezed him right where the pressure was worst. Sans' knees wobbled. The octopus lifted Sans' head by the chin and forced him to look him straight in the eye.

“ _You won't relieve yourself until I tell you to_.”

The hardness of the voice caused something inside Sans to break. He gave a small squeak and felt warm liquid trickle down his legs.

The octopus' dark expression wiped away immediately and he burst into a high, raucous laughter.

“Oh no no no...it's too cute. You don't have any stamina at all.”

He paused his laughter, seeming to read something in Sans' face. “You don't need to look at me like that. I'm not going to punish you for it, I'm not _that_ mean. I know you haven't had human food before.” A tentacle stroked his face tenderly. “But you'd better be careful. Not everyone's as nice as me.”

The tentacle pulled out of Sans' ribcage. The octopus repositioned Sans so that he was on his back, completely cradled by tentacles.

“Now...let's finish up today's training, okay?”

The tentacles cradling Sans slithered under his clothes and caressed his whole body. One tentacle teasingly rubbed between his legs only briefly before sliding smoothly inside. Sans felt some of the magic lubricating him spatter his legs as the tentacle pushed into him. The limb inside him stretched him to an unsettlingly satisfying fullness.

“I think your poor pussy deserves a good, hard screw after all that waiting, don't you?”

The tentacle drove inside him in a frighteningly literal corkscrew motion, rubbing against his clit on the way in as the tip pushed as far as it would go. Sans let out a low moan.

“Aww, you agree.”

The tentacle uncurled and pounded into him. Sans closed his eyes and lost himself again until he felt something warm and wet slide over his teeth. The octopus was pressing the tip of his giant tongue against his mouth. Sans opened his mouth and let the tongue in. Everything was hot.

The octopus pulled away after one last deep lick inside Sans' mouth.

“Sans, I can feel you clenching. Don't you have something to tell me?”

Sans startled. He spoke breathily.

“I'm...I'm gonna come.”

The pace increased, and Sans felt his artificial muscle throb and clamp down on the tentacle, accompanied by a gushing physical release that made his whole body tingle with pleasure. The octopus' voice whispered somewhere close. He felt the breath on his face but the visual had turned hazy.

“Tell me.”

Sans choked on his words. “I'm c-coming.”

“Louder!”

“I'm coming!”

The octopus massaged his bones, the tentacle continuing to work on the inside. Sans twitched as his hips continued to buck into the touch. The octopus' voice encouraged him from somewhere in a fog.  “That's it. That's it.”

 

 

There was a lost bit of time after the orgasm that Sans couldn't account for. He gained his awareness back, or something close to it, on the solid floor against the wall. His shorts were pulled back up, and he seemed to be somewhat cleaner than before. Across the room, he saw the janitor monster Woshua arguing with the octopus as two other monsters took the mouse monster out of the cage in the corner and handcuffed his arms behind his back.

The scene was too complicated for Sans to analyze only moments after waking. Had he been asleep, or had he passed out? Maybe his magic had shorted out. He mentally checked himself over. The ghostly anatomy had lost form, thankfully. He wasn't sure he knew how to turn that on and off himself yet.

His soul was flickering like a weak light bulb. Definitely a magic shortage.

He looked blearily at the monsters in the room. Were they all involved in the kidnapping? Probably not Woshua. Would he be spreading some gossip on the outside that would lead to Sans being found? Sans shook his head to try to wake himself up more. Woshua didn't care about anything except cleaning things. He once soaked a burger Sans was about to bite into and left without saying a word of introduction or farewell. Woshua may not be malicious, but Sans also doubted the janitor would say anything of particular use to Papyrus about this.

Sans caught the tail end of the other three monsters exiting, and he suddenly wished he'd paid more attention to what was going on there. It looked like the octopus wasn't entirely isolated, which could mean that Sans had more opportunities for escape, or it could mean he just had more enemy monsters to contend with than he first guessed when he tried to assess how many captors he was dealing with. The conflicting thoughts made Sans dizzy.

Woshua waddled out and Sans and the octopus were alone again. The octopus reached for Sans and put him back in the now empty cage. He handed him another pastry and waited for him to finish it before wrapping a tentacle around the top bars of the cage, preparing to lift it and return it to the water. But as the food brought Sans' magic back from the brink, it also kicked his brain back into motion.

“Wait!” The tentacle paused and the cage remained on the ground.

“Uh...Sir.” To Sans' surprise, the octopus did wait, looking interested. “Could you leave it out of the water overnight?”

“Why?”

“It's uncomfortable." The octopus' expression was unreadable. ".....please?”

The monster appeared to consider it.

“All right. You were pretty good today.  You could have done a little better...but I've definitely dealt with worse.” He let go of the cage and withdrew the tentacle underwater. “Sweet dreams, Sans.” His head withdrew underwater as well.

Sans watched the surface for a while. After what felt like an hour, the pattern of the bubbles popping on the surface changed to what he guessed was a sleeping rhythm. Now was the time to get a plan into action. He would gather what magic he could and whittle away at the lock on the door. Now that he was seeing it above the water, it looked like it had been weakened by age. If he could be quiet about it, he should be able to cut through it in not too much time.

Sans fell asleep immediately.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've ever seen descriptions of skeleton ectoanatomy including a clitoris so...HERE YOU GO?? THE PRESENT THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR. Speaking of presents no one asked for, after talking to that plant monster in Grillby's about monster food, I just can't let it go that monsters don't have bathrooms. So....here you....go....??
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm hoping to have time to get the next chapter up later this week. In the meantime, your comments always delight me. ;)


	5. Knock knock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for your wonderful comments, they really help get me through this thing.
> 
> Chapter 5 time. wow okay writing this chapter actually kinda messed me up, so if that tells you anything

Sans was being shaken by the shoulder. His brother wanted him to wake up early again. Well, maybe it wasn't early, but it always felt early where Sans was concerned. The morning was a time of day that the world wouldn't miss if it was blasted off every calendar and clock.

The shaking became more insistent.

“Okay, okay Boss.”

“You hear that? He already knows who I am.”

Sans bolted upright.

He was looking up into large yellow eyes. A tall, bulky monster was crouched over him, and behind that, a thin lizard-like monster and a cat. Sans recognized the first two of them as the ones who had taken the mouse monster away. The octopus was watching all of them, close to the edge of the pool. Sans scrambled onto his feet, but the other monster still towered over him.

“I have some guests today, Sans. You'll be entertaining them.”

Sans felt his soul constrict. The tall monster closest to him leaned in.

“How are you liking your stay with Onion so far, Sansy?”

“Do you really want an answer to that?”

The octopus spoke. “Sans.”

Sans flinched. He looked from the octopus back to the tall monster. “...it's fine.”

The monster gave a bark of laughter. He turned to look at the octopus. “Did you do the soda trick on him? Get him to piss himself?”

“We've done this and that.”

Sans' face burned. He already hated this monster with fiery conviction. What was strange, though, was that the octopus also seemed to harbor some distaste for the monster. Something about his responses to him weren't just insincere from politeness—there was an automatic twinge in the octopus' face when the tall monster spoke. Granted, it apparently didn't take long to feel this monster's obnoxiousness, and the two acted like they'd dealt with each other before.

The lizard monster spoke up. “Who gets to go first?”

“There is no 'first.' There was a reason I didn't tell you all to come. He's only doing one.”

“What are two of us supposed to do, then?”

“Enjoy a show? Draw straws if you have to. I told you he's new.”

The tall monster rounded on the cat. “I don't _feel_ like drawing straws. You're the one that said we should come along.”

The cat monster held up its hands in a placating gesture. The other monster's bulk probably had something to do with its immediate surrender. “All right, all right, my bad. You go, then.”

The tall monster's face stretched in a satisfied grin. His bright yellow eyes gleamed down at Sans. Sans was tempted to suggest they draw straws anyway. He looked at Onion, wildly hoping that the octopus' dislike of the monster would make him change things in Sans' favor.

The octopus looked back at Sans, seeming to read something in his face. “You'll do everything he tells you to.”

Sans wilted.

The cat and lizard settled themselves down in a corner, their eyes so bright in the gloomy chamber that Sans felt them burning into him even when he stopped looking at them. The tall monster walked away from Sans to the center of the platform, then turned back to face him.

“Crawl over to me.”

Sans clenched his fists. He slowly dropped to all fours, stiffly crawling over to the tall monster. When he reached him, he settled on his knees.

“Grab my legs,” the monster ordered, starting to unzip the fly of his pants. Sans put his hands on either side of the monster's knees.

The monster shook free an already erect penis from his pants and pulled it forward to point at Sans' mouth.

“All right,” the monster let out a relaxed sigh. “Suck on it.”

Sans opened and closed his mouth, not moving his head forward. Not counting the octopus' strange anatomy, he had never actually seen a monster's penis up close before. It was a disgusting, weird mound of flesh and he didn't want to do this, he didn't want to put it in his mouth and find out what it tasted like—

Sans heard the soft voice of the octopus drifting over from the pool behind him.

“Do as he says.”

It was like Sans had received an electrical shock. He was completely paralyzed with fear. He knew that the solution—what would please the soft, threatening voice behind him—was to move, to obey, but he couldn't do it. He was ripped from his internal panic by the monster in front of him stroking a finger on his teeth.

“Y'know, on second thought, I don't like the looks of these.” The monster grabbed Sans' head and repositioned its penis to point at Sans' right eye. “This'll do.”

Sans was about to struggle in earnest when the voice of the octopus spoke up behind him again.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. That could kill him. Didn't you check first?”

Sans shuddered as he felt the monster in front of him checking his HP. This time he didn't look up into the monster's face, instead staring resolutely down at nothing and gripping the monster's knees tighter.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do, then?” Sans looked up and was immensely relieved to finally see the familiar frustrated reaction on the monster's face.

“Jeez, just have him lick it if you're such a baby.”

The monster looked back down at Sans. “You heard him. Lick me.”

Sans materialized his tongue and stuck it out, but was still having difficulty ordering his body to budge. He stayed there with his tongue hanging out stupidly for a few seconds too long.

“For Christ's—” the monster impatiently jabbed the tip of its dick to Sans' outstretched tongue. The taste made Sans balk and draw his head back in automatic disgust. He thought he heard the soft voice behind him repress a giggle, but he didn't see any reaction from the monster above him to prove it was real.

What he did see was growing anger directed exclusively down at him. Sans forced himself to close the gap between them and lick up the shaft of the penis before he could think about it. He didn't look up, but the monster's grip on his shoulders released some of its tension. “Keep going.”

Sans ran his tongue from the base the the tip, licking under the folds until the texture there made him change tack quickly. The stink of the whole area was strong, and Sans badly wanted to move away. He licked faster in the hopes that he could end this as soon as possible.

“Ohhh fuck.” The monster above him groaned and leaned over Sans. He seemed to forget his wariness of Sans' sharp teeth and shoved his dick all the way into his mouth.

Sans was sorely tempted to bite down as hard as he could. He even thought it was a last moment he could be proud of, but he was frustrated to find that he still wasn't prepared to die. He acquiesced and opened his mouth wider to allow access.

The monster thrust into Sans' mouth. “You like it when I fuck your face, huh?” he grunted. The one upside of Sans' mouth being filled was that he didn't have to respond to that.

After a while of thrusting, a hot, salty fluid burst into Sans' mouth. He tried to pull away to cough it out, but the monster held his head firmly to his crotch and continued to empty himself into him.

“Swallow all of it. Ohhhh yeah. Fuck.” He kept moaning as he humped Sans' face. Some of the cum spurt out and dribbled down Sans' chin. Sans gulped once before his gag reflex hit him. A gush of drool and cum escaped from between his mouth and the monster's dick.

The monster pulled out and swatted Sans on the head. “I told you to swallow!”

“Don't hit him.”

The tall monster looked from Sans to the octopus and back. He snorted in dissatisfaction. Sans looked him in the eye and spat the rest of the cum out on the ground.

“You think you don't have to do what I say, huh? You think just because I don't get to rough you up—” the monster pushed Sans onto his back and held him down with a foot. “—that I can't do anything to you?” He pumped his still erect cock and squirted the last bit of cum over Sans' face.

The monster took a moment to admire his handiwork before he grabbed Sans by his feathery lapel and lifted him up so his feet were high above the ground.

“You know you're in for it when we leave, right? Onion takes disrespect real seriously.”

Sans wiped his face with his sleeve. “Ooh, then what's he going to do to _you_?”

The monster sputtered in anger. He threw Sans hard towards the wall. A mass of tentacles caught Sans midair.

“Do _you_ have to be as difficult as he is?”

“I can't stand a cocky lay.”

“Maybe I can make you feel better about it.”

Sans didn't feel nearly as bold in the grip of the tentacles. The octopus drew Sans close to him, spreading his legs and arms out. More tentacles lifted his shirt and pulled his shorts down. The tall monster looked him up and down and seemed to cheer up, leering at him. If the point of this was to make Sans feel weak and exposed, it was a success.

The octopus' soft voice cooed in his ear. “I'm going to make you come in front of them.”

Sans put up a perfunctory struggle, and the tentacles gripped him tighter.

“Don't you dare fight me.”

Sans went still.

“Sans, I want you to obey him as you would me.” The octopus looked up at the tall monster. “Go on and tell him what you want him to do.”

The tall monster crossed his arms. “Make a pussy.”

Sans' magic wavered nervously before coalescing at his groin. It felt dry and tense.

“Spread your legs more.”

Sans opened his legs wider. Tentacles shifted to accommodate and held him in the new position. His knees were held up so he was straddling the air. The tall monster closed the space between them and held Sans' head up by the chin.

“Tell me I was the best cock you ever sucked.”

Sans mumbled. “'werethebest.”

“Speak clearly, Sans,” the octopus said from behind him.

It wasn't like it was even a lie, considering it was the only one he'd ever sucked. “You...were the best cock I ever sucked.”

“A little robotic, huh?”

“We can work on that later,” the octopus said.

The tall monster took two fingers and spread the lips of Sans' pussy. He stepped a little to the side, and Sans could feel the eyes of the other monsters in the room, even though he wouldn't let himself look over at them. His head dipped as close as it could to his shoulders.

The monster got ready to shove the fingers of his other hand in the hole. The magic tensed even more, still totally dry from lack of arousal. Sans clenched his eyes shut.

“Hold on. You'll hurt him if you do that.” A tentacle dipped smoothly into Sans' soul, and Sans felt some dull alarm that he'd apparently already stopped registering the octopus' influence as foreign magic. His magic easily accepted the command to relax and start lubricating.

The fingers entered him and scissored inside. Then they spread him apart and held him open. “Can you put a tentacle in there?” The monster asked.

A tentacle slid inside between the fingers. It was the first time today that anything had felt remotely good, and Sans couldn't hold back a small noise.

The tall monster removed his fingers. “Ride it.”

Sans hesitated for as long as he thought he could get away with before lifting his hips and dropping them down. He kept moving, but he couldn't manage to get a steady rhythm going.

“...he's not very good at it, is he?”

“That's about what I expected,” the octopus admitted.

Sans' face felt hot all the way down to his neck. He stopped moving, and no one admonished him for it. The tentacle pulled out of him.

The monster in front of him grabbed his face again. He spoke to the octopus, but kept his eyes locked on Sans'. “What was that about making him come?”

“Are you ready, then?”

“Go on.” Tentacles held Sans open like the fingers had before. Another rubbed vertically against his hole and clit in one stroke. The tall monster leaned close so his nose nearly touched Sans. “I want you to look at me while you come.”

The stroking tentacle eased into the hole and pushed in and out, the inside walls hugging it on the way out. Sans' eyes drifted off to the side as he tried not to make noise. The hand holding his face gave a tug.

“Come on.”

Another tentacle rubbed at his clit in circles and the one inside him thrust faster.

“Ha! A-ah...”

“That's it, you little fuck. Now look at me.”

Sans slowly met the monster's eyes. He closed his eyes almost immediately. The tentacle wriggled inside in a long, muscular wave.

“Ah...ahhh...”

“Keep your eyes open.”

Sans opened them. The thrusting was moving his whole body up and down now. His eyes started to roll up. Maybe he wouldn't have to look at him when he—

“AH!” The tall monster thumbed his clit while the tentacle that had been circling it a moment ago moved to rub against the stretched lips. The tentacle plunging into him had started curling around when it reached the limit of space inside. Sans made gutteral noises.

“Are you close, Sans?” Sans had the feeling the octopus didn't actually need to ask.

“Y...yes...”

The thumb rubbing his chin mirrored the motion on his clit. “Look at me.”

Sans finally locked eyes with the monster and couldn't seem to look away anymore. He tried not to think about what his face looked like now, sloppy and undone. Another hard thrust sent euphoria rippling from his groin to the base of his neck. The blissful feeling was made to keep shooting through his body in pulses by the tentacle slowing down to exactly the right speed of rolling jabs. Sans whined. His eyes glazed over, noises bubbling out of him as the movement petered out into some last sharp pushes.

“Hg—g-ahhh...ahh...ohhh...”

After what felt like an eternity of staring into the other monster's eyes, reading into them all sorts of unspoken name-calling and shaming, the tentacle pulled out. Fluids flushed out with it, and since the tentacle didn't ejaculate, it must have all been from Sans. The tall monster looked pleased.

“Do I get another go?”

“Do what you want.”

What was happening? Sans blearily looked down and sobered up quickly. The tall monster had pulled its cock back out and was stroking it in preparatory motions.

Sans didn't want that in him, it was a weird shape and it smelled funny and it was greasy like it hadn't been cleaned right; it was revolting. The monster pressed it against him. It slid uncomfortably against the wet lips, like it could pop in with one push. Sans squirmed. “N-no...no...”

The monster sheathed himself inside. Even with the lubrication, there was a slight sting from the way the girth stretched him. The monster gave only a few testing thrusts before it started to slam into him. Sans felt sick at how grateful he was that the previous activities had made him wet.

“How's this, you dirty little monster? Want more?” Sans mumbled an incoherent answer that wasn't a yes. The monster fucked him harder. “What's that? Tell me loud and clear. Tell me how badly you want me to make you come like that again.”

Sans muttered, “don't.”

“Tell me you love it when I fuck you like this. Tell me how much you love my cock. Say it.”

Sans' eye and hand glowed dimly and his voice started as barely a whisper. “don't

FUCKING TOUCH ME.”

A gaster blaster appeared beside him. The room was silent. The slapping noises from the monster's thrusting had ceased, and not even a breath could be heard.

The blaster didn't come with the usual burst of light and force. Sans' anger had triggered it to appear, but he didn't actually have enough magic to power it at the moment. It disintegrated harmlessly a few moments after it was summoned. Rather than making a show of power, the appearance of the useless weapon had only served to highlight Sans' helplessness.

The octopus broke the silence. Its voice was calm, but there was a distinct tightness to it that sent screaming alarms running up Sans' spine.

“Do you want to finish?”

The tall monster snapped out of his shock. “Uh. Yeah.”

The tentacles pushed Sans into the other monster's arms. “Take him.”

The monster dragged Sans away from the edge of the pool and bent him over. Sans didn't even struggle. The monster mounted him again and built back up to a ramming pace. The sound of his hips hitting Sans over and over echoed without the sound of crude taunts to compete with it. Finally the monster's hips rocked into him in some last, unsteady thrusts, and Sans could feel the hot release gush inside him. The monster bent over him and gave a blissful groan.

The three visiting monsters left in a strange quiet. The tall, bulky monster looked back at Sans for a moment and Sans almost thought it wore an expression like it looked sorry for him, but that was crazy.

Sans let the magic between his legs dissipate. Without anything holding it in, the ejaculate inside him dropped in a foul splatter onto his pelvis. He slowly stood himself up, the cum clinging to his pelvic bones and running in sluggish globs down his legs. He shuddered in revulsion.

He didn't look at the octopus just yet. He looked from his feet to the exit to the edge of the pool. He had finally calculated that the tentacles were long enough to reach him anywhere he stood on the platform. There was never enough room to run in the first place. If he could have run. If he could have even moved.

“Sans, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you might be a little clumsy, but I expected you at least to be obedient. I'm going to have to punish you for your behavior today.”

Sans hurriedly spoke. “I'm sorry.”

“It's too late for apologies. You're going to take your punishment.”

Sans was frozen in place.

“Come over towards me.”

He could hear his own bones rattling, but otherwise he didn't move.

“Don't make me tell you again.”

Sans' voice came out quieter than he intended. “Don't...do this to me. Don't make me do this.”

The soft voice cut like a knife.“You'll _do as I tell you_.”

Sans' knees buckled. His voice was barely a whisper. “I can't move.” 

“This is happening whether you cooperate or not.” Tentacles reached for Sans and dragged him over to the edge of the pool. His knees scraped against the platform. “You can make it easier on yourself than this, though.”

The octopus pulled him into the pool with a splash. Only his head surfaced, the rest was held underwater by tentacles creeping over him. The cold water snapped him out of the burgeoning panic. He was completely thrown into shadow by the octopus' head looking down at him—from this angle, the monster looked even larger than before.

Looking up into that face, as tentacles slithered under his clothes, he felt the need to excuse himself somehow, to at least explain his immobilizing panics.

“I-I'm not doing this on...p-purpose, I'm—no no no _no no-!_ ”

A tentacle broke into his soul and Sans immediately curled into a ball around it. The octopus pried him out of the position so that his face was looking up, but his back remained hunched. Sans' face was already a mess of tears.

“T-take it out, please take it out, please—” his speech dissolved into sobbing.

“You need to behave better in the future, Sans.” The tentacle corkscrewed in and out. Sans wailed.

The tentacle pulled out. Sans didn't have time to feel relief before more tentacles gripped the soul and pushed in all at once. They wriggled over the inside walls in light, tickling touches. It was worse than pain—like a nest of spider eggs had opened up inside him. He jerked in every direction to try to escape the sensation, but the tentacles kept a locked grip on his soul until he started to go limp, letting out only soft whimpers.

Finally when Sans wasn't so much as twitching, the octopus pulled the tentacles out of his soul and dredged his lax body out of the water, his now heavy clothes drenched and dripping. The lights in Sans' eyes flickered.

“Not going to disobey me again, are you?”

Sans shook his head.

“You're going to be a good boy for me, aren't you?”

Sans nodded.

“ _Now let's remind you why for a little longer_.” A tentacle massaged the surface of the soul.

Sans choked in terror. He couldn't go through that again. How long was that monster going to do this to him? There's no way he could handle it again.

Suddenly a thought occurred to Sans. Something the octopus had said before.

_You can beg me for more, but you can't beg me to stop._

Sans didn't have any pride left to swallow, so he just let the words tumble out.

“Don't do it again, please. F-fuck me instead.”

The pleased look the monster gave him told Sans he'd finally done something really right, but he wasn't able to find any satisfaction in that. The octopus pulled Sans back underwater up to his neck. A tentacle entered his soul gently and made his magic reform the cunt between his legs. The octopus' strange member teased at it and rubbed against it until it was slick and aroused enough to slide in painlessly. The member pumped inside him and he was so tired but it already felt good again. It felt so, so good.

Sans had never hated himself more. He wanted to die.

But at least it didn't hurt.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suggested activities after reading this chapter:
> 
> -going outside  
> -feeling real weather on your skin  
> -going to a coffee shop to order hot tea just for the smell and the heat on your hands  
> -watching rain through a window  
> -petting a dog  
> -listening to Bob Ross talk about a pocket squirrel named Peapod: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98yVU8w0tyc


	6. Who's There?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ......surprise!!

Sans was curled up on his side, his midsection being nudged insistently.

“Please just let me sleep.”

He was shaken more roughly. He curled into a tighter ball, willing reality away and keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

“N-no more, just let me d-die. Just fucking kill me—”

“Sans!”

Sans rolled over and snapped his head up.

Papyrus' serious glare greeted him.

“B-boss!”

Sans scrambled up onto his hands and knees. He didn't think he could stand up, but the overwhelming urge to leap and embrace his brother crashed over him. He didn't. As reserved as the two generally were with affection, surely this was a moment to look past that—but Papyrus wore a strangely forbidding expression that held Sans back.

Sans sat back on his calf bones and waited for Papyrus to say something more than just his name. Papyrus always had a good deal to say. But he was silent, and Sans grew awkward. Sans took a look around.

He wasn't in the cage. He wasn't even in Waterfall. He was comfortably seated on the living room couch in his own home. He nearly broke down and cried right there, but somehow he held himself together.

After a while as the silence persisted, Sans felt he needed to break it for both their sakes, even if Papyrus looked like he'd snap at him.

“Did you dust him...the octopus?”

Apparently Sans had already struck a nerve. Papyrus crossed his arms. “No. I checked him before I got you out. I decided it would be more prudent to retreat and strategize before launching an attack.”

So the octopus was as strong as Sans thought. Sans shuddered.

“How did you find me?”

That question was bad too. Papyrus looked frustrated. “...I didn't. I can't believe you were so close to Snowdin the whole time. Eventually I got Grillby to shortcut around randomly to see if he ran across you, and he just happened to.”

Sans decided to hold off asking how Papyrus had gotten Grillby to do him that favor. Papyrus looked bitter about it.

“I...wasn't there the whole time. I was in a room in...I think it was somewhere in the capital.”

Papyrus looked to the side.

“Right...the cell. I thought it didn't look like Waterfall...”

Sans froze.

“How did you...”

“I was sent a recording.”

No. No no no, he didn't—he couldn't have seen—

When Sans was in those rooms, he hadn't had much brain power to spare thinking about the cameras—he'd almost thought he'd imagined the red lights, but obviously that must have been what they were. Did anyone other than Alphys have access to that many cameras? Considering the limited resources of the Underground, even two was a lot of equipment for some backwater kidnappers. But then, Onion's set up was too organized to just be a few lowly monsters scrounging for money. The Underground was a cramped place.  For an operation like that to survive, that meant...

A brief, terrifying thought nudged at the corner of Sans' mind, but he made himself forget it. He could think about it later, maybe, if he wanted to lose sleep some time.

Papyrus kept talking.

“When you first went missing, they asked for money. They _must_ have known there was no way I could pay what they were asking. Even the king couldn't pay that much. They were toying with me...”

Papyrus wouldn't look at Sans.

“When I started on their trail, they realized I was looking. I couldn't delegate it, and it had to be obvious why I wasn't at my post. They sent me a video of you, in a cell...being hurt.”

_No. Stop. I changed my mind. Don't tell me what happened. I don't need to know._

“I...didn't know you _could_ be hurt without killing you. They warned me not to look for them. But I couldn't pay, so...that was my only option...” Papyrus clenched his fists. “I got Grillby to start looking. But then they sent me another video. And you...”

Papyrus narrowed his eyes. He looked well and truly angry.

“I started to think about how many times you'd been captured. And I started to think that perhaps... _you were doing it on purpose._ ”

It was like Sans had been drenched in ice water.

He had a flashback of the bunny slamming his hand against the wall, of himself begging the absent Papyrus to save him, and he suddenly wondered if the recordings had any sound.

He tried to picture what his stay with the octopus looked like through the lens of a camera. He'd barely put up a fight, ever. Depending on the cut of the video, there were probably long enough stretches of time where it might have even looked like...And on top of that, all his mad escape plans had only ever been inside his own head. Any time he'd been about to act, all the camera would have caught would be him drifting off to sleep. The satisfied sleep of a monster who'd gotten what he wanted for the day. Sans' soul churned.

Papyrus appeared to interpret the look of nausea as guilt. His voice grew in anger. “I don't have any interest in lecturing you over your inclinations, but to waste my time and money like this over—to make me _concerned_ for you when-”

“It's not like that!” Sans was breathing heavily, a panic starting that he tried desperately to quash down so he could explain himself. “Papyr—Boss, I—I'm really grateful you came to get me all those t-times. _Especially_ this time. I never meant to—I-I got lazy, and I just—I didn't know any of that was going to happen, I was so s-stupid, but you can't think th-that I...that I w-wanted—”

Papyrus looked away from Sans again, his gloved hands tightly gripping his crossed arms.

“There's no need to get so emotional, Sans. You know I can't deal with you like this.”

That was where Sans would normally apologize, but he was too afraid that Papyrus would take that as more evidence of guilt. But as Papyrus looked back at Sans, Sans thought he could see regret in his eyes.

“You didn't do it on purpose.”

Sans could only manage a whisper. “No, Boss, I swear.”

Papyrus stood up and started to walk away.

“P—Boss.”

Papyrus turned to him with an unreadable expression. “Yes?”

“If you thought I—” Sans swallowed, “why did you get me out this time?”

“I am rarely wrong, but...in case I was.” Papyrus went to the kitchen and started rustling pots around. His fidgeting was usually a symptom of his unwillingness to deal with feelings, but there was an order to his shuffling around now that implied this was one of those rare cases where he was actually setting up to cook something. To fix a meal for Sans.

So he _did_ feel bad. Sans didn't allow himself to want any more than that, because Papyrus was never going to apologize to him for accusing him of enjoying his rape.

 

 

 

When Sans woke up the next morning, Papyrus was already gone to patrol. Sans wasn't sure if he was expected to go to his post today or not, but given that Papyrus hadn't woken him up himself, he was going to let himself assume the answer was no. Even if he was supposed to work, nothing was going to prevent him from playing hooky today and going to Grillby's. He really, really needed to go to Grillby's. Maybe he'd rack up a tab all day.

The short walk to the bar was tense. Sans was still sore, and his legs didn't want to walk as straight as he told them to. And as careless as he'd been in the past, Sans always walked around town with at least some caution, but today the shadow of every monster passing by filled him with dread. It cleared up when he looked at them straight on and recognized them as monsters who weren't interested in offing him, but the feeling came back with each monster he caught moving out of the corner of his eye. Maybe this was what Doggo felt like.

When Sans entered the bar, he was struck by how normal everything was. All the regulars were where he could expect them to be, and the jukebox was playing the same crappy tune that it had been stuck on since before Sans moved here. There were still the familiar dents in it from when Doggo had snapped and tried to stop it from playing. After the jukebox bravely survived the assault and continued to gurgle out its endless swan song, everyone seemed to come to the unspoken agreement that the heap of junk deserved to live.

It seemed that while Sans had his world turned upside-down enduring a private hell, the rest of the Underground had gone about business as usual. Sans wasn't sure if he found that comforting or not.

Grillby waved Sans over to the counter. Grillby. Grillby knew where Sans had been. But how much did he know? Sans told himself that he'd pretend nothing had happened so long as Grillby did. Mercifully, not an unusual word was spoken between them. Sans put in the usual food order and Grillby teased that he'd been cut off, despite serving him a drink as he said so and going to get the food after.

After a while of Sans eating in silence, the plant monster in the booth behind him called out to him.

“Hey Sans! What's with you today? By this time into a meal you're usually already done telling us for the third or fourth time something about how great your brother is.”

A tipsy monster in another booth joined in. “Yeah, I don't know if you've told us yet...did Papyrus make the royal guard?? I think there might be someone in Snowdin who doesn't know yet.”

The two monsters snorted laughter.

“Ha! O-of course the Boss is still great! What, you dimwits need _me_ to remind you?”

“Eugh. Do you have to call him that even when he's not around?” Grillby never attempted to hide his dislike of Papyrus in front of Sans, and Sans tried to forgive him for it because he made great food and wasn't too bad to look at. Now, though, the routine banter was making him start to feel like things really were normal. Like nothing had happened. He wanted it to stay that way.

“I just ain't ashamed to call a guy the boss of me when he's that cool, that's all.”

Grillby opened his mouth like he was about to retort, but he suddenly looked disturbed by something just outside of Sans' peripheral. “Whoa. Heads up.”

Sans didn't have time to turn his head before he heard a voice pant in his ear that made him freeze. “Could that apply to anyone, Sans, or just your brother?”

With a full stomach, Sans was finally back up to his usual speed again. He disappeared from the bar and reappeared back in his house so quickly, it almost felt like he'd gotten his old shortcut power back. He hastily locked the door behind him and collapsed back against it, clutching his chest and breathing heavily. He slid down to a sitting position against the door and curled himself into a ball, arms over his head.

Images swam in his mind. He vividly felt the blow of hot breath on his face, a tongue violating his mouth, tentacles wrapping him up and spreading his legs so they could shove—

“I'm not there...I'm home...I'm home...this isn't...” he gasped. “I got home. The boss is here. I'm n-not back there...” His breathing finally slowed. He brought his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms.

The dogs. It was one of the dogs from the guard. Well, obviously the only monsters that panted like that were dogs, but Sans had never listened that closely to how it sounded before. That is, he hadn't until he'd been blindfolded, and the sound of panting was the only thing he could focus on about the monster holding him. The monster that had carried him from the bunny's cell to Onion's chamber in Waterfall had been a dog.

There were a lot of dogs in the Underground. He didn't have anything else to go on but panting, not even a speaking voice. It could be any dog.

 _But the only place in the Underground where_ all _the dogs live is Snowdin,_ an inner voice reminded him.

The lock of the front door clicked and the door hit him in the back as it tried to open. Sans couldn't stand anymore, so he let the door push him out of the way. His brother looked down at him disapprovingly.

“Sans, you're not going to get over this if you stay inside all day feeling sorry for yourself. I want you to go outside tomorrow.”

“...yeah, Boss. You're right.”

Sans had a favor to ask Grillby.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, you guys got what you wanted ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> sans was rescued ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> i'm sure everything's fine now ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	7. The quick brown fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome baaack~
> 
> You beautiful people just make my day. And now I—well, I'm not sure I'll be ruining yours with this update, but keep me posted. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

When Sans woke up the next morning, Papyrus was already gone again. He hadn't woken Sans up today either, so he at least felt sorry enough for Sans to give him an extra day of rest. Sans felt both grateful and sick—his brother must have thought he was pitifully weak. But when he tested his legs and found they still shook when he stood, he decided to lean more towards grateful. Patrolling and standing post would have been utter hell today.

Sans thought he would have to look harder for them, but two unmarked video tapes were stacked right next to the TV. He considered checking that they were the right ones, but after holding one up to the mouth of the VCR without pushing it in, and instead nearly unraveling the rolled tape inside from how much he was shaking, he managed to convince himself they couldn't be anything else.

He stuffed them into his pockets and opened the door.

Sans saw a flash of white as his arms were grabbed and he was lifted bodily into the air. He was whipped around back into the house and pushed face-first against the wall just beside the door frame. A warm body pressed against his back and a knee shoved between his legs, balancing him on it so his feet dangled high above the floor.

“No smart remarks, Sansy?” That was Lesser Dog's voice. He was the one in Grillby's yesterday. “You've usually got a joke or two by now. Get all the funny fucked out of you?”

Sans couldn't remember how anything worked. He couldn't remember how to talk or attack or breathe.

“I've got one. You have any dog in you?”

Sans felt added pressure on his back. His breath came back to him too rapidly, making him light-headed.

“Do you want to?”

A tongue licked from the base of Sans' neck to the base of his head. His legs jerked. The knee spreading his legs rubbed hard at his crotch. Sans gagged and a line of spit dribbled down his chin. Lesser Dog cackled.

“That's some reaction! You like it when I scratch that itch, little doggy?”

Sans went rigid. His words came out hoarse.

“G-g-get the _fuck off me, asshole.”_

A blaster appeared behind them, its jaw unhinging threateningly. Lesser Dog didn't move.

“You going to blast both of us?”

“Just t-try me.”

The air crackled in the tense pause before Sans was released and his feet touched the floor. He turned around to see Lesser Dog backed up a bit, his hands up in surrender, but a smirk on his face.

“You're not gonna do it.”

“You wanna b-b-bet on that? _Why the fuck wouldn't I?_ ”

“Because you don't wanna explain to Undyne, or hell, to King Asgore why you dusted a member of the royal guard.”

Sans' eye lit up his entire corner of the room with a deep red glow. “There wouldn't b-be any evidence.”

Lesser Dog, hands not coming down from surrender position but apparently still unphased, nodded to the window. Sans saw a portion of Greater Dog's back, the rest of him disappearing above the window frame.

Sans' eye still sparked with magic, but he took a second to think about what Lesser Dog was telling him. If Asgore found out what Sans had let happen to himself, what good was he in a sentry position, much less alive? What would happen to Papyrus if they found out he'd been spending on-duty time searching for his brother, that he'd used so much of his paycheck on the pitiful rescue missions? Sans' multiple captures certainly weren't a secret to the Snowdin locals, but Sans had never asked Papyrus if he'd informed Undyne about them. His guess was an unequivocal no.

The blaster faded away. Lesser Dog lowered his arms and walked to the door.

“You let me know if you wanna play some other time, pup. Say...later tonight?”

“Get out _g-get out already_.”

Lesser Dog shrugged and walked out. Sans saw him meet with Greater Dog outside the window, and the two of them bounded off in the direction of their usual posts.

Sans slid down into a sitting position on the floor. He would go out today, he was definitely still going to Grillby's, it was just going to take a little longer than he'd previously calculated.

 

 

It was late afternoon, going on evening, before Sans got himself out of the house and on the way to Grillby's. Apparently his stutter was fully back now, so that was great. Very intimidating. He looked around to make sure no one was close by enough to overhear him, then started slowly sounding out vowels out loud. He went over his plan in his head.

Snowdin wasn't safe right now, that much was clear. After he talked to Alphys, he would probably need a place to hole up and think, and staying in Hotland wasn't a good idea. It was too open, there were too many cameras, and Sans didn't think he was being especially paranoid if he wondered how many of those cameras were official government property.

Sans stopped reciting vowels as Monster Kid ran past him. He listened to the sound of the child's beating feet fade off before he stretched his jaw again.

“The quick...b-b-b-brown fox...”

The usual hidden bench in Waterfall was out (it was too easy to get cornered in), and so was the dump. Onion said he had monsters gathering materials for him there, and Sans didn't favor his odds of bumping into one of them.

“The quick... _brown_ fox...”

Despite the fact that it was the most likely location of the kidnappers' center of operations, the capital would still be the best place to go. It was the biggest place in the whole Underground, and therefore the easiest to disappear into. And if Sans didn't recognize the sounds of the place where that cell was, that meant that it wasn't in one of the places he _was_ familiar with. Some of his old hideaways could work.

“jumps over...”

And if Sans _did_ happen to run into some flunkies skulking around, he at least wouldn't be facing them half-starved—his speed and his blasters were back up to full power. If they were stupid enough to approach him while Sans was on his game, he'd almost like to see them try.

“the lazy. d-. d-...”

Sans stopped walking. He felt like a knee was nudging between his legs, but he was all alone on the street and nothing was touching him. He felt ridiculous, standing pigeon-toed in the middle of the street with his arms wrapped around himself.

He couldn't afford to freeze up again. To forget how to fight. He materialized a blaster and tried to comfort himself with the sound of its warm-up whine.

“The lazy d-d-d-...gh....lazy—”

Sans saw movement ahead and let the blaster evaporate into air. The bear from down the street was greeting him. Sans hoped the interaction would end with the acknowledgment of each other's existence, but the bear walked up to him.

“Hey Sans, it's been a while! You get kidnapped again?” The look on the bear's face was jovial and ignorant. Sans supposed that those other times it _had_ been pretty funny. To everyone but Papyrus, that is.

Sans wanted to give a flippant reply, but his jaw was locked. The bear had approached too close and he was so much bigger than Sans. Sans never really noticed it before—the bear had never given any indication that he was a threat to the skeleton brothers, or interested in fighting anyone at all for that matter.  Too lazy, maybe.

Now, as the bear threw Sans into shadow, Sans realized that it had always had the luxury of deciding not to fight because it wasn't a monster anyone would want to provoke. A gripping paralysis shot up Sans' spine and held his legs in place. Sans clenched his fist, the responsive tightening assuring him that he could summon a blaster if he needed it.

“What was that you said last time? 'I'll tie their spines in double knots if anyone tries that shit again.' Ha! A lazy guy like you. How'd that work out for you?” The bear slapped Sans on the back. Sans received the contact stiffly, looking down at the ground and trembling. His hand was glowing. The bear stared at him for a moment and then took one step back. “Uh...”

There was a strained pause between them.

“Well, I've got some books. To borrow. From the library,” the bear uncomfortably excused himself. Sans remained frozen to the spot for a moment longer before he could move his legs again. He strode forward as though nothing had occurred.

“—jumps over the _lazy dog,_ ” Sans whispered to himself.

Right after Gaster died, Sans was a mess. He fell apart, and it was Papyrus who stood up to gather the pieces and take charge. To protect them when Sans couldn't even bring himself to eat. Sans owed him both of their lives. It wasn't just Papyrus' strength that Sans admired, it was his sense of duty and stoicism. Papyrus's soul possessed a deep well of strength of the spirit that Sans could never hope to even come close to.

Sans had to clean up his own mess this time. He'd already wasted enough of Papyrus' power. And his money, and time, and...concern.

Speaking of Papyrus. When Sans reached Grillby's, he saw something that made him rub his eye sockets to make sure he didn't have some kind of gunk on them. Some kind of mysteriously Papyrus-shaped gunk, because Papyrus would definitely never be standing guard in front of the door to Grillby's.

Sans watched in disbelief as monsters approaching the bar were either let in or turned away by Papyrus. He patted them down for weapons and, when satisfied, stepped aside to allow them through the door. Was he acting as a....bouncer?

Papyrus spotted Sans. He scowled.

“I should have known this was the first place you'd go when you decided to leave the house. I was hoping to put this off longer.”

It sounded as though Papyrus was going to explain himself, but he merely jabbed a thumb at the door.

“Well, go on then, stuff yourself with disgusting, greasy food on greasy plates with greasy company. See if I care.” A couple of monsters who had been about to approach the entrance turned away in a smooth about-face and left.

Sans didn't move. “Uh. Boss...”

Papyrus crossed his arms. His expression was dangerous. “Yes, brother.”

Sans' mouth twitched in what was almost the first grin since his rescue. “Are you...bouncing for Grillby?”

Papyrus muttered his reply. “It's only temporary. I promised Grillby a favor...after he did one for me.”

Sans' amusement turned sickly.

Papyrus hated the bar and hated Grillby and he hated that Sans went there all the time. He always said the locale was beneath the both of them.

...Papyrus had taken on a job he found humiliating, just in the wild hope it would help him find Sans, even though at the time he believed Sans might have just been pulling a disgusting prank on all of them.

Sans was too overwhelmed to even say anything to his brother, rudely pushing past him and entering the bar, avoiding eye contact as he did. He heard his brother say his name after him, but didn't acknowledge it and let the door close between them.

Grillby saw him immediately and motioned him over again. Sans scanned the bar. Dogaressa and Dogamy were at a table near the counter. Sans eyed them warily, but tried not to look at them for long enough for them to catch him at it. He had the sudden crazy urge to ask Grillby to kick them out, but that might require some explanation, and he didn't want to draw attention to his panicked reaction from yesterday.

Sans started out by ordering a meal and exchanging more wise cracks with the other regulars. None of them brought up yesterday's breakdown either. One of the upsides to living in a town full of repressed assholes was that you never, ever had to talk about your feelings.  You might get made fun of for them, but monsters who liked you would simply never acknowledge you had them.  Out of courtesy.

Finally Sans took a last bite of his burger and picked a sesame seed out of the gap by his gold tooth, then asked Grillby to talk to him in the back room. Grillby motioned Sans around the counter and opened the door behind the bar for him. The two of them entered as nonchalantly as possible.

He and Grillby had an old joke. Both of them hated doing favors—Sans was too lazy, and Grillby resented doing something for nothing. But they'd developed enough of a faux-antagonistic closeness over the years that they were willing to make exceptions for each other, just not without a bit of ribbing. Whenever one of them asked something from the other, the one doing the favor would pretend to grumble until the one asking the favor said that they would trade it “for a little something extra,” and then strike the most ridiculous seduction pose they could come up with on the spot. Usually something they saw Mettaton doing on TV the other night.

Sans and Grillby would have a good laugh about that, then do whatever favor they were going to do anyway, gratis. Sans had a suspicion the bartender might actually be interested in him, but Grillby never made a serious offer and Sans never bothered to ask. If Grillby really wanted sex from him, he had the unfortunate luck of lusting after the least motivated monster in the Underground.

Now, as Sans was clearly preparing to ask Grillby some kind of favor, Grillby wasn't making any noises or attempts to engage him on their usual jokes. Sans felt relieved, but he also felt a little disappointed that he felt relieved. It was another reminder that things weren't normal.

When they entered the back room, Grillby closed the door on them. Sans caught himself darting his eyes all around the room for the most secure spot to stand and eyeing the single exit much more intensely than he normally would have. Grillby locked the door and stood in front of it. Those were his usual precautions against being interrupted in the midst of dealing with potentially sensitive information, but again, it was the only exit and Sans had never felt so claustrophobic in his life. It was difficult to breathe.

This was Grillby, though. Sans knew Grillby, had known him for years. He was prickly and a bit of a dick, just like everyone else in town, but he'd never shown any inclination of harming Sans. But goddammit he was so much taller than him, why had Sans never been so sharply aware before that he was smaller than every other monster in the Underground, and Sans really, really wished Grillby wouldn't stand there blocking the door like that.

Sans was snapped out of it when he heard the wooden chair he was gripping rattling against the uneven floor tiles. Sans had been visibly trembling, definitely enough for Grillby to notice, and Sans had no idea how long he might have been stuck standing there helplessly in front of him like a deer in headlights. But Grillby still hadn't broken the silence or bothered to bring attention to any of this.

Sans decided to skip niceties, however few they may have had before.

“I want two shortcuts. One to Hotland and one to the capital.”

“That's easy enough. I suppose you want me to wait around for you to finish your business in Hotland?”

 _Like some kind of taxi_ was the kind of tart remark Grillby would usually add to the end of a comment like that. But again, he didn't.

...he was offering to watch out for Sans.

Sans didn't want to think about Grillby knowing what happened to him, but it was becoming increasingly hard to ignore that he was wise to it. Worse...that he appeared to feel sorry for him. And then another thought struck Sans. To Grillby, it probably sounded like the shortcuts were a thinly veiled excuse for Sans to ask for a chaperone. The humiliation of that idea spurred Sans to rationalize out loud.

“It's not like I'm—I mean, I just want to make sure no one knows where I'm g-.” Sans took a breath. “—where I'm headed. If I g—if I take the long way, it's too easy to track.”

Grillby considered Sans for a moment, then gave a silent thumbs up. He took Sans' hand, a contact Sans tried not to flinch at, and they were in Hotland in a flash.

 

 

When Sans entered the lab, he was filled with the embarrassing desire to go back out and ask Grillby to come in with him. Alphys was feeding one of her amalgamates. Sans hated those things—they gave him the creeps.

It was the weird drinky-bird one with the long neck. When Sans came in, it fixed him with what he assumed was a stare, but when it dipped its head back down to the food, the eye-like shape on its face chomped on the dog pellets with previously hidden teeth. Alphys looked up.

“Sans! What are you d-d-doing here?”

Sans twitched in annoyance. Her stutter reminded him too much of his own and he irrationally wanted her not to do it. He cut to the chase, pulling a tape out of his pocket.

“You wouldn't happen to know anything about this?”

“No.”

“You're not even looking at it.”

Alphys balanced the bowl of kibble on the bird's back. It hopped away, miraculously not spilling any.

“A b-b-bunch of equipment was stolen recently. It's not like I have a reason to m-make videos anyway, with all the feeds connecting to my screens here.”

That sounded like bullshit, but Sans pressed forward.

“Do you have surveillance of the chamber in Waterfall with the platform over a deep pool? Or the areas right around it?”

“Those areas have b-b-been b-blank for ages. It's good that everyone thinks we have eyes all over the Underg-ground, b-b-but we really d-don't.”

Sans clenched his fists. It wasn't that he even disliked Alphys—she was one of the few other monsters whose company he could stand, because she was good for a chat about science fiction and she wasn't the violent type. Quite the opposite, actually. Even when her death-defying experiments with DT had gone horribly wrong, when any other monster would have dusted all the amalgamate abominations, when their families wouldn't even take them back, she looked after them. Sans didn't have her pegged as the sadistic type, so if she was lying now, she was lying for someone else. Because for all her good traits, she was also a coward.

“D-do you want to show it to me? What's on it?”

Sans snapped. He gripped Alphys' soul with his magic and held her above the ground. She squeaked and fumbled uselessly at her soul, as though the magic could be wrenched off of her with her hands. A gaster blaster appeared in front of her and whined as it heated up.

“Sans! You're not really g-going to kill me? What is this ab-bout? If you'd just tell m—”

Alphys cut off as she was roughly lifted up an inch higher in the air. Sans felt a rush as he finally had the upper hand on someone else, but the powerful feeling left as soon as it came. It was replaced with a queasiness as he looked at her cowering form. He had an image of the quivering mouse in the cage back in Waterfall. Alphys had her hands over her ears in the same way.

Sans released her, letting the gaster blaster disappear in a wave of red smoke. Alphys scrambled back onto her chair, sat for an awkward second, then slid off the chair and stood back up in her usual hunched posture.

Sans felt so stupid. Did he really think he would be able to show it to her to call her bluff? Of course she was going to ask what was on it. What, did he think he would show her the tape itself and they'd what...analyze its make up or something? Plastic. How revealing. It's not like they had some kind of forensics operation in the Underground, not like dusting for prints would do anything. There were no trials or investigations—the royal guard decided when a monster deserved the force of the law, and usually dusted perpetrators (or suspected ones) on the spot. And if Sans went to the authorities with this, even if he managed to work around the fact that one of the authorities was responsible, he'd likely still be in as much trouble as his captors for failing in his duties as a sentry.

In the end, Sans supposed cowardice wasn't a more reprehensible flaw than laziness.  And the things Sans himself had already done to survive...he couldn't say he was any better than her.

Alphys remained silent through Sans' whole trail of thought. Sans stared somewhere past her for a moment before he turned to leave without a word.

“What are you...g-going to do, Sans? What's going on?”

Sans stopped but didn't turn around. “Don't talk to me. Don't fucking talk at all.”

He walked out to the sound of his own footsteps and silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see a little extra content like doodles of the fic or me answering questions like a total doofus, come join me on the tumbles: http://germindis-leechlamp.tumblr.com/
> 
> Come ask me strange questions, I like it.


	8. rotten egg smell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I come up with the sexiest chapter titles
> 
> Please leave a comment and let me know how I'm doing and if I'm a crime against humanity that needs to be stopped. <3

The part of the capital Sans and Grillby shortcut into was one Sans had known for a long time, but hadn't visited in a while. Before Papyrus was born, Sans had snuck off here a good few times to pretend he lived by himself. There were a lot of abandoned structures that most monsters avoided, and Sans could hole up in them safely for a night or two while Gaster panicked at home in Hotland.

What Sans discovered back then on his first overnight stay here was that the reason the structures had been painstakingly built and then abandoned was because every few hours, gas released from cracks in the rocks and made the whole block smell intensely of rotten eggs. Even with overcrowding and violent competition for space in the Underground, even with monsters who sprinkled the dust of those they killed on their faces 'for luck,' it seemed that the fiercest had all been defeated by bad smells. Sans supposed it didn't help that the structures were originally meant to be turned into a food market.

Staying here overnight time after time had gotten Sans accustomed to strong odors and what anyone else would consider offensive tastes. He still remembered the look on Papyrus' face the first time he'd seen his older brother down a bottle of mustard. Sometimes Sans liked to eat smelly foods in front of Papyrus just to get him to make that face.  It was only unpleasant textures that bothered him, which made pretending to enjoy Papyrus' first foray into cooking, a dish he called "breakfast spaghetti" that consisted of macaroni noodles and oatmeal, especially challenging.

As Sans silently drank in some nostalgia to distract him from his current reality, Grillby crossed his arms and regarded Sans calmly. He was waiting, for now, but he clearly wanted Sans to say something. Sans had a suspicion he wanted to be told what the plan was.

The problem was that 'the plan,' such as it was, had already half come to nothing, and what remained was 'hide until I think of something' and possibly 'beg Grillby to stick around for an undetermined amount of time.' Sans was beginning to run out of options. He apparently wasn't even willing to wring information out of monsters who clearly had it.

Looking at Grillby now, Sans wondered why he _didn't_ just ask Grillby to stay by him, apart from that being something no monster with any dignity would ask. But Sans had already established that he cared more about surviving than dignity. What was one more shame on the pile?

Except that those other monsters were just some awful assholes, and this was Grillby. Grillby was _his_ awful asshole. Sans actually cared if Grillby saw him as weak. But apparently he'd taken long enough deliberating.

“Sans, what do you want to—”

“Listen Grillbz! Uh...about the shortcuts...”

“You want the magic back.”

Sans looked hopefully at Grillby, but reading the expression on his face made his soul drop. Grillby wore a look Sans had seen on a lot of monsters over the years. A look that said 'better you than me.' Grillby had already escaped from a number of tight spots using the pinched shortcut power, and he clearly wasn't eager to go back to being one rowdy bar fight or angry patron away from being dusted.

Sans could hardly blame Grillby—he doubted he could be any less selfish if their situations were reversed. But he still hated him a little for it.

“Sans, do you want me to stay with you?”

Sans nearly choked. He stared at Grillby.  Now that he was faced with it, he didn't know what to do with the offer. Grillby reached to pat Sans on the shoulder, but as his hand moved towards Sans he hesitated, seemed to consider, and let his hand fall back to his side.  He gestured to the street around them.

“So, is this it? Are we going somewhere from here?”

Sans tried to reply but still came up empty. He felt a light spray of mist. Grillby looked up and grumbled in annoyance, a slight fizzle emanating from his crackling head.

“...somewhere inside, preferably?”

“Heh.  I hope you don't mind rotten egg smell.”

“Well, I don't know if you know this about fire monsters, but in the summer—”

A forceful stream of water hit Grillby right in the back. His clothing protected him enough that his fire didn't completely go out, but the blast had weakened his burning features to a dim glow. He disappeared in a flash. He'd used a shortcut to escape.

Then Sans felt the single vibration of a crack of electricity zip through him. With seconds of delay, like thunder after lightning, his soul seared from the inside. The pain brought him down to his hands and knees. His senses were overwhelmed by a high-pitched hissing and the smell of burning rubber. The surface of his soul bubbled and popped like boiling plastic. He couldn't feel his hands.

When he looked up, a familiar bunny monster was approaching him through the still-sparking mist. He was holding Woshua like a machine gun, using the janitor's hose to spray jets of water ahead of him.

“That didn't kill you. I'm a little surprised. I suppose I'd have nothing to bring back if it did, but I'm sure with time I could come to get over it.”

Sans desperately tried to crawl away, unable to get to his feet. All his limbs felt like they would burn off if he bent them.

“Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck. Oh g-god.”

The bunny came closer.

“No no no this isn't happening”

“And after all this, I thought you might be happy to—SEE ME.” The bunny emphasized his words with another jolt to Sans' soul. Sans collapsed face-first, his arms no longer able to support him.

“Oh, that one didn't kill you either! Why, you lucky duck!”

Sans still tried to drag himself away from the approaching monster, but the bunny stepped on his back and held him to the ground.

Sans' speech was broken in terrified sobs. “no...please...please, ple-hea-hease—I can't go back please, I can't, I can't—”

The bunny put Woshua down and secured Sans' wrists together behind his back.

“J-just kill me. Please kill me. Oh god please kill me.”

“Ooh, keep talking dirty to me.”

He pulled on Sans' limp body by the shoulders and dragged him up to lean him against the wall of the closest building, brushing dirt off his front. The bunny's expression was unsuitably apologetic.

“I'm terribly sorry, my dear—I don't appreciate being used as that slimy cephalopod's errand boy, so if I seem a bit less charitable towards you than I was previously, that would be why.”

Sans was starting to feel his hands again, sensation coming back as a dull, throbbing ache. When the bunny lifted Sans' face by the chin, he was greeted with a glowing red eye. Sans summoned two blasters and pointed them crossways at the bunny. The bunny looked up at them, then back at Sans.

Then the bunny lifted up his arms in a 'go on, do it' gesture. Sans hesitated for an uncertain moment, but commanded the blasters to fire.

There was a fizzle and a crack, and the blasters dissolved. Sans looked on in shock. The bunny rolled his eyes and took a phone out of his pocket.

Why weren't they working? Had the zap to his soul caused his magic to malfunction? He'd never heard of something like that happening. Then Sans had a horrible thought—he hadn't actually tried firing his blasters since his escape. He'd wanted to save the energy in case he needed it. Lesser Dog hadn't looked afraid of him at all, and maybe it wasn't because he expected Sans to be reasonable. Maybe something was already wrong with his magic back then. All the things that had been done to his soul...and he remembered the bunny saying something about long term effects, about contaminant...was Sans simply broken now? Would he never be able to use his higher level magic again?

In a dazed moment of abandon, Sans shifted to the side in an attempt to fall over and worm his way to escape. The bunny whipped his head around and fixed Sans with a crazed look, speaking through closed teeth.

“Just give me a reason. Just give me a reason to shock you again, _please_.”

Sans went absolutely still.

The bunny dialed into the phone. As it rang, he covered the receiver with a hand and looked down at Sans. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Woshua sidled up to Sans and started to squeegee his face. The bunny's phone stopped ringing and clicked through. The bunny spoke immediately.

“Surprise! They got him to leave Snowdin all right, but how he skipped Waterfall entirely to land one street over from me remains a mystery. I think it might have something to do with his little bonfire buddy—got rid of him for you. Anyways, I've got your runaway right here.”

Sans heard a tinkling female voice reply to him.

“Oh, I could kiss you, Clarence!”

“Please don't.”

A musical laughter poured out of the speaker. The bunny looked irritated.

“So am I taking him to you, or back to Waterfall? Please say you'll save me the long trip.”

“Actually, there's a client right near you, and—”

“A house call? Are you _joking?_ ”

“No no, never house calls. We've got some smaller private locations. There's a client waiting at the one just down the block from you, but we haven't told him we don't have anyone there at the moment.”

The bunny looked confused. “Why don't you...have anyone there?”

“Oh, it's a bit complicated...if our clients don't like our usual rates, we match them with a trainee, but we don't actually have any right now because Onion's been _very_ efficient lately. You wouldn't believe how well-behaved Cecil is after he—”

“Stop! Stop. Please forget I asked.”

“Also no one likes to stay there because it smells.”

The bunny pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Fine. Fine, fine, fine. I'm taking him. Tell me where I can find what's behind door number one.”

The bunny grabbed Sans around his middle and hoisted him up like he was carrying a sack of groceries. He grabbed Sans' soul with magic, too, and the grip made Sans jolt like he'd been shocked again. His soul was so sensitive from its burns, just the touch of another monster's magic felt like needles.

Listening to the directions from the phone, the bunny walked down the street and carried Sans to what looked like the back door of a restaurant. They went inside to an abandoned kitchen, then went through another door to reveal a plush little room with cushioned benches up against the walls. The room looked more recently visited than the rest of the building. The bunny set Sans down on the floor against a bare wall. He spoke into the phone.

“Delivered. Now if you'll excuse me.”

“Well, wait just a moment. How is the little dear? Is he clean?”

“Yes, Woshua spruced him up.”

“No, Clarence, is he _clean_.”

The bunny pulled a face. “I'm not checking _that!_ ”

“He's a skeleton, dearie. It's just magic. You finger people's souls all the time.”

“Ugh! You make it sound _gross_.” He switched the phone to his other ear. “How do you expect to check that now? Do you want magic samples?”

“We're only really looking for one thing lately. It's fairly obvious—visible sores.”

The bunny looked utterly disgusted.

“Doesn't your fellow eight-legged compatriot usually check?”

“Of course, but the little thing's been free for a bit since his brother got him out. You never know what could happen when you're not looking.”

The bunny pulled the phone away from his ear slightly and turned to Sans. “You rut with anyone since your escape?”

Sans was completely still for a moment before shaking his head once.

The bunny put the phone back to his ear. “There, he says he's clean.”

“Just check, Clarence, please. They refuse to come in until he's been looked at, and it would take too long for me to send someone over. It would save us all a lot of time.”

“Goodie for you,” the bunny said as he cradled the phone to his ear with a shoulder and squatted down in front of Sans. “Just know you're taking terrible advantage of me, Madam.”

He reached into an inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a latex glove, then took off the leather glove on his right hand and replaced it with the latex one. He unceremoniously yanked Sans' shorts so they went up over his bent knees and then down to pool around his ankles.

“Go on and make one.”

The bunny was giving Sans' pelvis a clinical stare. Sans took the hint and formed a cunt with magic. The bunny reached between Sans' legs with his latex-gloved hand and spread the lips. He examined it with a look of cold detachment. Somewhere in a part of his brain that wasn't preoccupied with disgust and fear, Sans felt some surprise that the bunny wasn't pleased by how frightened this made him.

“It looks fine.”

“Feel inside for bumps.”

The bunny let out an exasperated sigh. Sans tensed up as the gloved hand dipped a finger into the opening. The intrusion stung. The finger rubbed the walls methodically, testing all around. It pulled out.

“It feels fine.”

“Is the discharge clear?”

The bunny looked at the wet finger of the glove, turning his hand over. “Is it supposed to be? It's whatever it's supposed to look like.”

“Clarence.”

“It is, it's clear.”

“Feel around the folds too.”

The bunny took the lips of the cunt between finger and thumb and rolled the fold between his fingers. Sans shuddered. “It's fine.”

“No bumps? No discoloration? Unusual smells?”

“No, it's fine.”

“You're sure? Even a slight raised spot could be—”

“It's all fine, it's all sparkling clean, lovely color, smells like a rose I'm sure!” Clarence barked into the phone.

The lady on the other end sighed in satisfaction. “Good, let them in then. They've been waiting very patiently through your antics.”

“Yes, ma'am,” the bunny bit out sarcastically. “You realize this isn't at all my job to—”

“I know, dearie, I know. You were the lucky one to find him is all. Just get him back safe after, all right?”

The bunny grumbled an affirmative and moved to hang up.

“And don't hurt him!”

The bunny wore an ugly expression in response.

“Yes, _mother_.”

There was a brief silence on the other end.

“Blow it out your ass, Clarence.” The other end hung up.

The bunny shrugged and put his phone back in his pocket. He looked down at Sans.

“Don't give me that look. We'll see each other again. I'm sure this monster won't kill you, probably.” He patted Sans' cheek. Sans was silent. “Anyway, I'll be back for you after—I seem to have gotten roped in against my will. Just two peas in a pod, aren't we, you and me?” He stood up and walked to the front door on the opposite side of the room from where they'd come in.

The bunny opened the door and took a peek around the corner. The face he wore when he peered back over his shoulder at Sans was more in keeping with the sadistic bunny Sans remembered.

“Well. Considering the company you've kept, I think you might feel right at home with them.”

Sans desperately thought about prostrating himself at the bunny's feet, of asking him what he could give him to change his mind, of being as pitiful as possible, but he didn't see the point. The bunny had shown the first time they'd met that he had some awareness of Sans' limits and the willingness to show a little mercy if it suited him. But from the show of distaste and reluctance Sans had been getting from him now, he got the feeling this wasn't a situation the bunny was going to change, despite apparently wanting to.

The bunny tipped his hat to Sans and skipped out of the room, also tipping his hat to a monster not yet visible to Sans beyond the door frame. The bunny made a theatrical gesture with his arms, motioning the other monster to the door like a welcoming butler. Then he traipsed off and disappeared from view. The monster outside hunched in front of the door, ducking its head under the top of the frame as it came in.

Sans supposed the bunny had been comparing this monster to Onion, but hadn't thought it possible for there to be a form that frightened him more than the giant octopus.

The monster that had entered the room was some kind of enormous, faceless slug. Where a face should have been, a mass of feelers sprouted out. The slightly translucent skin revealed organic workings beneath—dark shapes that appeared to be intestines, and Sans thought he could even see the movement of blood coursing through clear veins.

He felt the monster check him. So even though it wasn't speaking, it wasn't mindless. Sans was overtaken with a ridiculous urge to try engaging it.

“Hey...p-p-pal.”

The monster slunk toward him and Sans became painfully aware of his exposure, his shorts still around his ankles and his magic still formed. He brought his knees together but didn't dispel his magic.

“What's—” Sans swallowed. “Do you have a...a name, buddy?”

The monster didn't give any acknowledgment or indication it understood him. Its head dipped down to Sans' lap, the feelers tickling at his stomach since his knees blocked it from going lower.

“I-I'm...Sans.” Sans choked. The monster's head slid back up Sans' thighs and gripped his closed knees with its feelers. “S-s-sans the...” The feelers pried the knees apart, the head wedging itself forcefully in the space between Sans' thighs. “Sans the...sk-skele...t-to—” His voice broke in a sob as the monster's head met Sans' pelvis and the opening of his cunt in a wet crush.

The feelers stretched him open and wriggled inside him, sending shivers crawling up his spine. Inside, they whirled around pressing against the inner walls, easing the opening wider and coating everything in some kind of cold mucous. Sans bit his tongue trying not to make any more noise.

Then the feelers withdrew, and the monster used them to grab Sans by his knees. It dragged him from the wall to land on his back, preventing his head from cracking against the floor at the last moment by slipping its soft tail under him as a cushion.

Sans looked up into the blank face hanging over him.

“D-do you have...family? My b-b-brother's...he's...looking f-for me. I g-g-gotta go...home...”

Sans tried to speak slowly, but his voice wouldn't stop stuttering.

Still gripping Sans' knees with its feelers, the monster pulled Sans up from under so his lower back rested upright against its huge body, his legs dangling upside down in the air and only his head and shoulders laying against the floor. The same sticky mucous that was coating everything stuck to Sans' back and held him to the other monster.

A previously hidden member poked out of the monster's body and sat between Sans' legs. It looked horribly alien, with a cap shaped like a folded umbrella.

Sans remembered what Onion said, that 'no one wants you to beg them not to pleasure you,' but he couldn't stop small whimpers of fear from bubbling up and he was so scared and he didn't want to do this, and maybe begging would turn the monster off so he would let him go.

“Please d-don't do this. Let me g-go. I don't...want this.”

The monster drew itself up to full height against Sans' upside down back, and part of its tail stroked Sans cheek, like a reassurance. Sans could practically hear the bunny's first assurance to him as though he were still in the room. _You're in good hands. This will only be extremely unpleasant_.

The monster bobbed up and then back down, guiding the member to the opening of Sans' cunt and letting gravity rather than force drive it in. Instead of making the act gentler, it just made it enter Sans too fast. Sans couldn't hold back a startled cry.

Sans felt the umbrella-shaped cap spread inside him, stretching the inner walls wider. That was painful enough, but the edge of the cap had hooks in it that snagged the member in place. The member tugged, playing at pulling out to test the strength of the hold. Sans yelped. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“No please oh please...d-d-don't hurt me, please stop, it hurts, it h-hurts so m-much...”

Something squeezed out of the end of the cap. At first Sans thought the monster was ejaculating already, but it didn't feel like liquid. A longer part of the member, more flexible than the umbrella-like portion, was spiraling out from the inside.

“NO! Let go of me, oh g-god, get off me, get off!” Sans tried to kick his legs, but he couldn't move them at all. His whole lower body felt like it was on fire. Impossibly, the appendage pushed deeper inside. “No! No!”

The longer part inside rolled around like a worm, then seemed to liquefy. No, it was still solidly there...then Sans realized—this part was made of magic, just like his own parts. It was melding with his magic. The feeling of the wormy magic seeping into his own in such a sensitive area made Sans' hips buck in a distressing mix of pleasure, terror and revulsion.

Sans' pleas were half words and half wracked sobs. “n-no...nuh-huh-ho...no...”

The monster folded itself in half, and the upper portion, above its member, drooped over Sans' front like it was melting onto him. It flattened its head grotesquely and slipped its way through Sans' rib cage, wrapping around Sans' spine on the way down and finally poking out of the neck of his shirt. The part of it that breached the outside unflattened itself in a gelatinous glop.

The monster perspired its slimy mucous wherever it touched. It might have had some function, maybe done something for a monster of the same type, but all it did for Sans was make his bones feel slick and disgusting and cold.

The creature was vibrating and writhing around him. Maybe this was its way of finishing, and it would be done with him soon. It touched Sans' face gently with its feelers, tickling his mouth like it wanted him to open it. Sans violently pulled his head to the side and clamped his mouth closed. The monster paused and the feelers wriggled at the air, as though it was offended.

The head flattened again and withdrew back under Sans's clothes, and Sans felt it stop inside his rib cage. Feelers tickled the surface of his soul.

“No no no please! Please I'm sorry, don't—”

The feelers penetrated his soul and released a cold sludge the consistency of porridge. Sans reactively spat up on himself. A grasping appendage indifferently wiped the puke from his face, and the feelers popped out of the soul. The head poked back up into view and pushed the feelers into Sans' mouth to release more of the sludge. Sans convulsed as the monster locked itself onto his face, forcing him to swallow everything it emptied into him. The member remained tightly hooked inside him, the magic injection still throbbing sympathetically with Sans' magic.

The feelers were finally withdrawn from Sans' mouth and covered his face in what felt like macabre kisses. He thought that might be it for this part, but then the feelers slithered into Sans' eye socket. Sans thrashed the parts of his body that could still move. He couldn't form words, only garbled animal noises as the feelers spurted the last bit of the slime inside his skull.

Then it was over. The monster took its feelers away from Sans' face and retreated out from under his clothes, the member unhooked and drew out of him, and the monster slowly laid Sans down so his back fully touched the floor.

Sans lay there gulping and panting, helplessly spread out, his hips and knees trembling weakly. Half of his body felt numb, but there was a persistent sting between his legs and his magic tingled on the inside where the monster had melded with him. It itched terribly. Something was dripping steadily out of his cunt, but he couldn't imagine what it was. His mouth tasted sour.

After letting him lie there for a minute or so, the monster leaned over him, poking at Sans' cunt with the cap of its penis. It was going to do it again.

Sans made wet gasping noises. He tried to curl up, but the monster had him pinned to the floor. The cap pushed harder against him and popped back in, hitting the end of the space inside. Sans let out a pained cry. The monster rocked into him, the member sliding in and out.

“no more...no m-more...I wanna g...go home, p-please...”

The monster's weight held him flat against the floor, anchoring him as the member found its place and began to hook in again. Sans coughed up spit and tears.  The experience turned delirious.

“hgk...uhuc...help me...dad...d-dad....”

Sans passed out after either the third or fourth time the monster repeated the process, it was hard to tell.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on a related note, look up "leopard slug mating"
> 
> no reason
> 
> WHELP after this chapter i'm psychologically destroyed, time to go stare at a wall with a hot cup of coffee


	9. god from the machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't be alarmed by that number 11 indicating the final chapter. the final chapter is actually going to be chapter 10!
> 
> oops....I mean.....and then there's going to be a ~s3QuEl~
> 
> ┬─┬ノ( º _ ºノ) hnnnNNNNRRRGAAAHHHH!! (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻
> 
> It's possible that telling you there's a sequel doesn't make a big difference to you guys because you didn't know how long this would be, and the sequel is basically just a continuation, but there were definitely things I wanted to wrap up close to this point. And then...something eLsE will happen. "Chapter 11" is going to be a preview of some sequel scenes, because I'm a huge dork and so people know where to go after this one~
> 
> THANK YOU GUYS for your lovely comments always, they make my day and there are several of them i really need to frame and place near my computer for inspiration. anyway i drank vodka tonight and i'm feeling very emotional
> 
> here have a chapter

Sans heard two voices from outside. He'd finally slept enough that he had the energy to scramble up and support his back against the wall. Just a moment ago he'd been whining miserably, half in a dream, but at the sound of footsteps he quieted.

He'd blacked out and come to several times through the night, only to endure more of the slug's ministrations. At some point he'd started thinking this would be the rest of his life, that this was going to keep going on forever, but finally around what would have been sunrise on the surface, Sans slid from a sticky nightmare to consciousness and the slug wasn't in the room anymore.

Sans wasn't held down by anything, only his wrists were bound to each other, and the door was left open. But he couldn't get himself to it. He just fell asleep and kept sleeping, occasionally startling awake, thinking he was being touched, but still no one was there. Any time now, the bunny was going to come back for him, and he couldn't move himself to a damn open door. His legs were utterly useless. He couldn't even pull his pants back on.

It was too late now. The voices grew closer.

“I told you there was someone in here.”

“I believed you. I was just lying so we could leave.”

“That's terrible! Look, he's hurt. We have to help him.”

“No,  _I_ have to because you don't have healing powers and you're going to keep walking towards him even if he attacks us.”

“Sorry."

“Let's get this over with.”

The owners of the voices came through the door. Light poured in from outside and lit them up from behind, casting their visage in shadow. One short monster was carrying an even tinier monster in its arms. The bipedal monster was only about as big as Sans himself. But just because it was small didn't mean it couldn't make him suffer.

As it came closer, Sans curled in on himself protectively.

“Don't come near me. D-don't touch me.”

The monsters approached close enough for Sans to make out their faces through the hazy light. One of them wasn't a monster at all. The short, upright monster was carrying a weird flower with a face. The flower was potted in an old moldy boot.

The small monster kept walking towards him. “It's okay. It's okay. We're going to help you.”

Sans made a blaster appear above his head, aimed right at the two creatures. Maybe they didn't know that Sans was broken. Maybe this would scare them off. The monster stopped walking.

“See, I told you,” said the flower.

“He's just scared. I'm not going to hurt you, okay?”

The monster put the flower on the floor and started walking towards Sans again, this time opening their arms wide in a mocking gesture of peace. They knew. They knew he was helpless. The blaster disappeared. Sans choked and curled into a tighter, shivering ball.

“N-no...p-p-please...don't. I'm so t-tired. Please leave me alone, j-just a little...longer.”

The small monster reached forward.

“Frisk, don't—”

Ignoring the flower, the monster touched Sans' face with both hands and gently lifted it to look them in the eye. Their eyes were a deep red, just like most monsters of the Underground. But instead of the usual chilly gaze, their expression radiated warmth, and an unusual amount of determination.

“Easy....easy. See? I'm not here to hurt you. I'm going to get you out of here.” Their kind smile spread wide over their face. “I'm here to save you.”

Then Sans realized, that unusual determination—the bipedal creature wasn't a monster either, but a human. And only a child. Sans' laugh didn't have any joy in it. What had he been reduced to, cowering and pleading with a child? Monster Kid would have been amused.

“Flowey, can you heal him?”

Sans felt himself being checked. The sensation nearly made him vomit. Or maybe it was the rotten egg smell—the gaseous fumes were creeping in from outside, refracting the light in the room. It was the first time since he was a kid that the smell made Sans nauseous.

“He's...not actually hurt? I guess he's just really tired.”

The child looked at Sans, their hands moving from his face to his shoulders. “Can you stand up?”

“Uh. N-no. No, I don't think so.”

“Frisk, could you please at least put his shorts back on? It's making me uncomfortable.”

At the flower's words, Sans clamped his legs together and hunched over. The sudden movement made the human let go of Sans' shoulders.

“Whoa! Whoa, it's okay, you can't get up, right? I'll put them back on you, it's fine.”

Sans heard the human's shoes scuff the floor, then the soft sound of wet fabric being lifted, and the squelchy sound of it being dropped again.

“These are uh...” the human whispered the last words, “they're slimy...” Sans heard more shuffling as something was placed on the floor. “It's fine! I have a change of clothes in my backpack. I think you're my size.”

A second later, Sans' shoes were being fit through the legs of a pair of shorts. Sans forced himself to look up at the human, but they were politely looking away as they fumblingly used their hands to guide them, pulling the shorts up around Sans' hips. The human's clothes were his size after all.

When the shorts were secured, the human faced him and smiled at him again. Sans thought he should be afraid, no one should smile that much at someone else unless they had some really nasty intentions for them, but he just couldn't be scared of that face.

The human took out a knife and reached behind Sans, cutting at the ropes binding his wrists. It was funny—of all the movements he'd mistaken for hostility so far, seeing the knife didn't make him at all afraid for his life. The sight of it was almost a relief. Someone with a normal weapon that anyone with brains would have, to protect themselves if nothing else.

The ropes fell away. The human picked them up—they'd only cut one end, so it was still fairly long stretched out—and looped it around Sans' shoulders and under his arms, supporting him against their back and helping him to stand shakily on his feet. Sans seemed to have replaced the backpack.

The human picked the boot with the flower back up, and a vine reached out of the boot to grab the backpack. The flower huffed.

“Great, now can we please get out of this place? It smells awful.”

 

 

They made their way slowly out of the rotten egg street through a back alley, inching on like a four-legged caterpillar. The human wasn't quite strong enough to carry Sans on their back, so Sans helped them forward as best he could on weak legs.

“What's your name? I'm Frisk, and this is Flowey.”

“...I'm Sans. Sans the...” Sans lost the balance in one leg as he felt the phantom tickle of feelers gripping his knees. The human stood up straighter and supported them back onto four feet. Sans mumbled the rest of his words. “...the skeleton.”

“So...what were you doing there? Who hurt you?”

Sans would normally respond to that kind of inquiry with a "fuck you," and maybe exhaustion was part of it, but...everything about the human threw him off. He still couldn't get over his confusion at why they were helping him, and couldn't shake the feeling that this would somehow lead to more suffering, but he also couldn't think of anything to do but simply answer them anyway.

“I was...being held there. This slug—” He stopped. “They...a bunny had me captive before, and he found me again. He brought me there.”

Then something occurred to Sans. Something he hadn't had the chance to think about since everything went south last night. He kept talking, more to himself than the human.

“But how did he find me again. He shouldn't have known I was there so fast. He said he knew I was a street over from him...but what would make him check that?”

Sans heard the flower speak, but couldn't see its face around the human's back.

“What did the bunny look like?”

“Uh...light blue fur. A scar over his eye. Kind of a long face.”

“Frisk, put him down.”

“Flowey?”

“I just wanna check something.”

The human eased Sans against a wall and let go of the ropes. They turned around so the flower faced Sans. Before Sans could ask what that look was about, a vine reached out of the boot and grabbed the collar of Sans' shirt, pulling it down to reveal the glow of his soul in his chest. Sans froze in place as he was horribly and vividly reminded of the octopus doing the exact same thing the first day he was left with him.

“There's a magic tracker implanted in your soul, dumbass,” the flower said.

“There's...what?” Sans asked stupidly, still halfway in a memory.

“You can tell something's in there by the weird discoloration. They might have put it in while you were unconscious.”

“...oh.”

“'Oh'? Is that all?” the flower said impatiently. “Obviously it has to come out, or those monsters are going to find you again. And if we're anywhere near you, us too.”

Sans blinked. The vine finally let go of the collar of his shirt, and it was like Sans regained the ability to think. “How do you get it out?” he asked, touching a hand to his chest. He could feel his soul beating weakly.

“You just get it out.”

Sans stretched the neck of his shirt with one finger and reluctantly reached a hand toward his soul. He couldn't even bring himself to touch the surface. His hand froze there, trembling.

“Yeah uh...I guess I wouldn't recommend operating on yourself, though. Why don't I just do it,” the flower offered. Sans tried to hide his growing panic at the suggestion. He couldn't leave a tracker in there. However bad this was about to be, being back with his captors would undoubtedly be worse.

He lowered his collar with one hand and raised his head up slightly. The flower took it as his invitation and a vine drew near Sans' chest again. Sans steeled himself and closed his eyes.

The vine barely punctured the soul, then drew out like it was on fire. A trail of slime stuck from the vine to the soul. The flower shook the vine violently, splattering the slime on the ground.

“Ugh! What is _in_ there?” The flower looked at Sans, who gave no response at all, and its expression changed. “Oh.”

The human bounced on their heels, looking concerned. “Flowey, what's—”

“I'm going back in! I'm doing it, just let me focus,” the flower interrupted.

The vine reached back in. There was no intention to hurt, no desire to cause unwanted pleasure, but Sans couldn't accept the feeling of the invasion. Just the vine's presence, feeling around, scratching at the soul's wall in search of the foreign magic, was enough to make Sans gag and fill up with dread.

Sans slid slowly down into a sitting position. He felt like he was going to faint. “You've gotta stop. I can't do this.”

Flowey looked annoyed that Sans had dragged the vine down with him, but didn't stop feeling around, concentration still written on his face. “I just need another second to find it.”

“Just take the vine out. Please take it out. Just—” Sans choked as he felt the vine scrape on something. His soul told him he was being violated by tentacles and slime and feelers.

The flower frowned, clearly uncomfortable. “I've...I think I found it. I can get it out now.” The vine circled in one spot. “It feels like it's a little stuck in there. Like it's kinda...burnt around it.”

Sans spoke in a monotone. “I think they used it to shock me.”

The flower looked disturbed, but didn't comment.

Sans felt a tug and gripped the vine, panicking. “Don't don't don't move it, don't move it.”

The flower grimaced, but pulled the vine out without the object. “Then I'm sorry, I really am, but we've gotta go. We can't be around when they find you.”

The human opened their mouth to argue again.

“Frisk, I'm sorry, all right?! There's nothing more we can do _._ ”

“But...he needs it out, or else something worse will happen...won't it?” Frisk asked.

Flowey looked away. “....to him, yeah. And, I just wanna emphasize again, us too if we're here for much longer.”

“You can go, Flowey, but I'm not going to leave him alone.”

“ _Frisk_. Come on. You know I'm not going to leave you.”

The human smiled. “...I know.”

“So...”

The two of them looked at each other, then simultaneously over at Sans. Sans looked back and forth between them. He coiled up to get ready to spring and run, or stumble, or crawl, whatever he could manage, but as he scrambled forward, vines grabbed all his limbs and held him to the ground. The human approached him and he squirmed in the bonds.

“Wh-what are you doing. What do you think you're doing.”

“We're going to help you, okay? I'm sorry it's like this. I'm not going to leave your side, all right?”

“What do you—AH!” Sans jolted as a vine pierced his soul again. “No, no—”

“It's okay. It's not going to take long. You're going to be okay.” The human reassured, holding Sans' hand in both of theirs and stroking it soothingly.

The vine gripped the tracker in Sans' soul again and gave another tug. Sans felt ugly, slimy sensations spiral out from where the object was being dislodged. He bucked against the vines restraining him.

“Let go, don't—don't do this to me. Don't—hh! Don't hold me down, please—”

“I'm sorry. It's going to be okay,” the human said again. They kept petting Sans' hand.

Sans wanted to believe that, it sounded so nice, but a slug was holding him down and feelers were crawling over his face, wriggling inside his soul, and he couldn't do this he just couldn't stand it—

“CHRIST I'm glad that's done!” Flowey said, holding the object up in victory and then launching it away from them. “Now let's get as far away from that thing as possible.”

They ran, the human's arms and the flower's vines supporting Sans' uneven stumble. When they finally stopped to rest, Sans' legs couldn't hold him up anymore. The human let him down to the ground and gave him some space, putting the boot with the flower on the ground as well. Sans sat in place, shivering.

The human and flower looked at each other. The flower shrugged its leaves. The human approached Sans cautiously.

"You've...you've been through a lot, haven't you? Something really bad."

When Sans didn't make a move to attack them with magic, or stab them in the heart, or do anything at all, the human leapt over and closed the rest of the space between them in a tight hug.

Sans flinched in surprise, but didn't move away. He had forgotten what it felt like to be held like this. Gaster had been gone a long time, and Sans hadn't held Papyrus since he was a child. To call his family repressed was an understatement. Normally he accepted things as they were, tried not to want too much, but with everything that had happened lately Sans was suddenly struck with the realization that he wanted this very, very badly. Intense longing coursed through him all at once, as though all the desire for comfort and affection that had gone unexpressed after Papyrus rescued him decided to show itself only now that it was being fulfilled.

The human was so warm. Their whole body radiated a safe heat. After a shocked moment of stiffly accepting the touch, Sans sunk into the hug, bony hands clenching in the fabric of the child's sweater. He hid his face in their neck, but his shoulders were shaking, and he was sure the human knew he was crying.

“I'm...I'm really sorry we did that,” the human said. “I'm really, really sorry. I wanted to save you.”

Sans' mumbled words were almost too muffled by the human's hair to make out.

“....thanks kid.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you who are worried because it's still not the end yet, I say: 
> 
> don't worry ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I promise Sans won't get captured again ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> to those of you disappointed because you hoped Sans would stay captive longer, I say:
> 
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> don't worry
> 
> as always, the party continues on my tumbles: http://germindis-leechlamp.tumblr.com/
> 
> PS: LAST CHANCE TO PUT ON YOUR MYSTERY CAPS AND SHARE YOUR THEORIES ON WHAT'S GOING ON


	10. the end of the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unless I missed something it looks like.....no one quite....guessed what will happen this chapter, so....I really hope you guys enjoy and I'm looking forward to knowing what you think....
> 
> THANKS SIN FRIENDOS, COMPADRES, COMPATRIOTS, MOI DRUZ'YA, MY DROOGIES  
> SHIT HAS BEEN REAL AS THEY SAY, BUT THIS ISN'T GOODBYE FOR GOOD
> 
> SEE YOU IN THE END NOTE

“How did you know about those tracker things?”

“What? What do you mean?”

The flower looked surprised to be addressed at all, given that it had barely been a few minutes since Sans was sniveling in the child's arms, but Sans had enough of coddling and wanted some things satisfied.

“I mean, how did you know what to look for?”

The flower was dismissive. “I just recognized it, is all.”

At Sans' expression, the flower evidently guessed it had said the wrong thing.

“You recognized it. You mean before you saw it? Because it _sounded_ like you only thought to check after I mentioned that bunny.”

The flower quickly backpedaled.

“The bunny was—I was making conversation. The two things weren't connected. It was a lucky catch.”

Sans stepped toward the boot holding the flower.

“How do you know him?”

The flower bowed its head. “You're...look, you're really better off not knowing, trust me. Finding out won't help you at all.”

A humorless grin spread on Sans' face. “Hey, pal...how about you let _me_ decide that, okay?”

The flower gave a frustrated huff. “It's not worth it to tell you. I shouldn't have said anything. Just forget about it.”

“Forget—the FUCK do you—”

The flower shrunk from Sans' menacing tone, pulling its head as far back as the boot allowed. “Whoa! Whoa, watch it. Listen, all I care about is keeping this kid safe, okay? We don't want to get involved with you. We're just gonna go.”

“Flowey, what's going on? Why can't we help?”

“Frisk, you've got to understand. No one here is like you, they're all—”

The flower was cut off by a static release in the air. Sans had summoned two blasters and aimed them at it.

Sans figured the flower knew he couldn't use his magic, he had only called the blasters out of reflexive anger, but then he noticed...his blasters weren't disintegrating. They were giving their signature whine as they built energy. Sans could even feel them heating up.

“I'm...not broken? They're back?”

He gave a breathy laugh of disbelief, staring at the blasters for a moment before catching the flower's expression out of the corner of his eye. It was the face of someone who'd been caught in a lie.

“YOU KNEW.” Sans advanced on the flower. The human scrambled over to crouch by the boot. “ _You knew the tracker blocked magic_. You didn't tell me that when you took it out.”

Sans fired a beam from one of the blasters at an angle into the air. Dust flew from the ground as a flash of light burst around them. Startled by his own display, Sans' harsh laugh became a cackle.

“Yeah, because why wouldn't I want to tell you that you can do _that_ again! No reason to protect this kid or anything!”

“Oh, you little weed.” Sans' eye glowed bright red, the wisps of ghostly magic enveloping half of his face. “You are in  b i g  t r o u b l e.”

Frisk picked the boot up and cradled it in their arms.

“Sans, don't hurt us, please!”

“Just put that weed down, sweetheart, and let me do a little gardening.”

“I won't let you hurt Flowey!”

“What are you gonna do? You gonna knife me, kiddo?”

Instead of running at him like Sans expected, the human stayed in place, flinching. They curled around the flower in its sad little boot, shielding it completely with their tiny body.

And just like that, Sans lost the will to fight. He drew back, and the blasters started to cool down.

Then vines were reaching for his soul.

Vines were shooting out of the boot to secure Sans' wrists behind his back. One vine hovered at the neck of his shirt. The blasters fell apart. The flower glared from between the human's clasping arms.

“Don't make me...don't make me use what I know against you.”

Nothing was touching it, but Sans felt like his soul was being crushed under a steamroller. He was drowning.

“Flowey, stop! Can't you see how scared he is?”

“G-good. He...he _should_ be scared of us! He shouldn't come anywhere near us!”

Using its grip on Sans' wrists, the flower lifted Sans up and tossed him away from them.

“We don't want anything to do with your problems! Understand? Stay away from us!”

The vines tugged at the child's sweater, urging them on.

“But Flowey—”

“Please Frisk just _please listen to me for once_. You can do your hero schtick another day, okay? We are _not_ fighting those blasters.”

The human, apparently seeing some wisdom in the flower's words after being nearly shot at, ran with the boot in their arms. They looked back at Sans over their shoulder as they fled. Was that a disappointed look? Whatever, Sans was used to those. If he had a piece of gold for each one.

Then Sans was alone on the street, in a messy heap.

He was out in the open. Anyone could come by. Sans could already hear other monsters around a corner. He'd managed to sleep some, he knew now that he had his powers back, but the shock of being threatened again had paralyzed everything useful. He could barely move, couldn't seem to remember how to form blasters or bone attacks or anything. He'd truly reached a new low of pathetic.

Sans crawled into an alley behind a dumpster. He shared the space with a pile of dust that had some personal effects lying about it. On a hunch, Sans reached into the dust and fished out a cell phone. He dialed.

“Who the hell is—!”

“P-papyrus, I'm sorry.”

“SANS? THAT IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE CHOICE OF WORDS. IF THIS IS SOME LAST CALL YOU'RE ALLOWED BEFORE YOU'RE KILLED, I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU.”

“Can you...pick me up...?”

“Where the hell are you?! Grillby said you were at that rotten egg street, but he only came to this morning. I'm here but there's nothing—”

“I'm north of there. In an alley on 5th street.”

There was a thumping and other garbled sounds from the other end of the line. Papyrus hadn't hung up, but he wasn't holding the phone to his face anymore. Sans figured he had to be at least some distance away, but it felt like only five minutes had passed before Papyrus was storming down his street. Any monsters unlucky enough to be slinking around the area scuttled away in fear of the deadly stride.

Papyrus passed in front of the alley.

“Boss!”

Papyrus whipped around. With the light backing him, Papyrus was completely in shadow except for glowering red eyes peering out of deep sockets. He stomped forward and dragged the dumpster away from Sans in one powerful motion. Sans couldn't help it—the sudden exposure and his brother's hard glare made him cower.

“B-boss, I d-d-didn't do it on p-purpose, I swear, I was t-trying to fix—”

“Shut the hell up, Sans.”

Papyrus hoisted Sans up and sat him on one arm, supporting him on his chest. He carried him like that down the street. Sans didn't see the look Papyrus gave the few monsters that stared, but the way they withered and fled told him all he needed to know. You would never know Papyrus still had the lowest LV in the royal guard. If only looks could kill.

Sans thought about telling Papyrus that he couldn't go back to Snowdin, that the dogs were there, but he was too afraid to approach the subject. Maybe he could work up to it.

“Boss, listen—”

Papyrus held up his free hand in a discouraging gesture.

“Just. Don't talk to me right now. I _cannot_ have a conversation now.”

But Sans couldn't restrain himself from babbling.

“I tried...I tried so hard to f-fix it, but I'm t-too weak. What do you expec—what can I even d-do? What do you want from me?”

Papyrus stopped dead.

“I want you to give even _ONE SINGLE SHIT_ ABOUT YOUR OWN WELL-BEING, SANS!”

Oh.

What?

The shocked silence was interrupted by the ring of Papyrus' cell phone.

Without putting Sans down, Papyrus awkwardly got his phone out of his pocket and balanced it against his face with his shoulder.

“Yes, Captain. What can the Grand Papyrus do for you?”

Undyne. Papyrus looked confused about whatever was being said.

“Do you know why? All right. Of course. Yes, goodbye.”

Papyrus looked at Sans, and finally his expression wasn't some iteration of utterly furious. He seemed to be at a loss.

“The King wants to see me.”

 

 

Sans could hear the echo of voices coming from the throne room, but none of the words being said. Having been a ride-along, he had been obliged to wait outside while Papyrus had his audience with the king. In the midst of nervous pacing, Sans did a double take at a photo in the hallway.

One of the children in it bore an uncanny resemblance to the human child he saw only a little while ago. But Sans knew the child from the photo was dead—everyone knew that story. The King lost two children in one night, and his overwhelming grief had almost cost him the throne. It wasn't seemly to love children that deeply—losing them was too common. Disappointment at losing his heirs was understandable, but Asgore's exceptional show of weakness back then had opened him up for attack, had invited unrest and even more violence throughout the kingdom. It had taken years to build back up his fierce reputation.

Papyrus came out of the room, interrupting Sans' thoughts. He appeared to be in a state of numb shock.

“Brother...”

Papyrus took Sans' hands. Sans waited for an ax or a piano or something to fall on them, because that would be less ludicrous and out of place than the smile Papyrus wore.

“The king offered you a job in the science department.”

Sans almost laughed at Papyrus' expression. His brother hadn't looked so unreservedly delighted since his own appointment to the Royal Guard. Could that be pride in his eyes...?

“Are you...serious, Boss?”

“Yes, yes, he said we'd dealt with enough trouble in Snowdin, and you would be better off here. He told me he didn't think you were suited to a sentry position, and I couldn't help but agree...but he said it was about time you did what you were good at.”

Had the king really called Papyrus over to discuss Sans? How much did he know about what had been going on? Alphys said the surveillance of the Underground wasn't as extensive as the public was led to believe, but there was still a good deal of it. Had Sans been too naïve, thinking he could keep his misadventures under wraps?

As for the job, working in the science department would certainly be a neat solution to Sans' current problems. It didn't involve the risks and exposure of being a sentry. But there was another problem, which was that Sans didn't particularly want to do it.

Since Gaster's death, Sans had been reluctant to go back to the labs Gaster had worked in, had died in. There was some fear about getting in the same kind of accident, but it was mostly the pain of memories he'd been trying to avoid. But he supposed it really had been long enough since Gaster died. And if it made Papyrus this happy at even the prospect of him working at that job, Sans supposed he could suck it up and do that for him.

“Alphys is already head scientist...did Asgore say what he wants me to do? Am I an assistant?”

Papyrus was thoughtful. “It's some other division, maybe paperwork. The job title was...what did he say...science...solutions? Solicitations? No. Sans, you know I can't remember science things. I don't really care about them.”

Sans stayed there, unwilling to take his hands away from his brother's grip and break the rare affectionate contact.

“—to go ahead and go in.”

“What?”

“Sans! Can you not even pay attention? The king wants you to receive a briefing from him. Go in—I'll be outside. And then, I suppose, after...we'll say our goodbyes for a while. I still have my post, and the king wants you to move out here for the job. He said the scientists based in New Home live in dormitories.”

“Oh.”

It was all too fast. Everything that had happened to him, and now he was already being separated from his brother? Sans grew dizzy.

Papyrus pushed him toward the door.

“Don't make the king wait, Sans, it's rude.”

 

 

As Sans approached the throne room, he heard Asgore talking to someone else. But it couldn't be who he thought it was.

“It just doesn't seem fair at all. He's got to be the only monster in the Underground with exactly 1 HP. Think of what I could discover! It's such an awful waste.”

“You were outbid.”

“Yes, easy to be outbid when the bid is 'nothing.' If you didn't restrict my funding so much—”

“Watch yourself.”

Asgore was busy in conversation with an unfortunately familiar bunny monster. Sans tripped at the doorway, causing the king and the bunny to turn and look at him. The bunny wore a tight, angry grin.

“My dear! How truly disappointing to see you still alive!”

The king scoffed at the bunny.

“No thanks to you leaving your post. It would be wiser not to remind me how your sour grapes outweigh your loyalty.”

Sans couldn't run. He couldn't walk. He stood in place, without even the capacity to panic. He was somewhere beyond that.

“Sans, you've met Clarence, my Royal Inquisitor.”

At the king's reintroduction, the bunny gave an exaggerated bow. Asgore gestured for Sans to stand before him, and Sans' feet moved without feeling, like the king's hand had pulled him forward by an invisible string.

“After all the trouble you've caused, I thought it might be best to simply be straightforward with you, and hope you're intelligent enough to grasp the situation.”

Sans waited, shivering. He wanted to present a dignified front, at least for Papyrus' sake, but the bunny was right beside him and his reserves were long spent. The king continued.

“Your brother is an effective soldier. When it comes time to go to war with the humans again, he may prove to be an asset. But right now I have been having a very frustrating problem with him. He's been using his salary, his privileged resources, unwisely. As a royal guardsman, when Papyrus spends money, he's spending _my_ money. He's leaking money out of my pockets. Do you see why this is a problem?

“I like your brother. He's bold, efficient, loyal...if he has one grave flaw, it's that he appears to have an inextricable you-shaped tumor. A pitiful garbage bag of an older brother. I can forgive someone for an accident of birth, and I did think he was just unlucky at first. But over time it became apparent that he was dangerously attached to you.

“I suppose I saw some of myself in him. So, I thought at first that I would show him that he didn't need you. That if he couldn't pay, and couldn't save you, he'd come to his senses and let you go. After all, how many times did you have to be captured before he saw the truth about you? The case had already been made for me long before I got involved.

“When that plan didn't work, I thought perhaps I could show him that you weren't worth saving. But that failed as well. It seems it doesn't matter how worthless, how costly, how utterly loathsome you get—something keeps driving your brother to come to your aid. As it turns out, the loyalty I prize in him is a double-edged sword.”

Asgore regarded Sans coldly.

“You don't deserve a brother as devoted as him, you know.”

Sans didn't need reminding of that.

“Finally, I figured that the least cruel solution for Papyrus would be to have you hidden in plain sight. Taken care of. Given a job. And completely out of the way.”

“Then.....what you told him—”

“Right, your new job. You'll be working in solicitations.”

“So there really is a—”

Sans was interrupted by Clarence letting out a snorting laugh that built into a maniacal pitch.

“Oh honestly, my dear. A science department with 'solicitations.' You're as funny as everyone says.”

Sans was silent. He wanted to hear him say it to be sure he was understanding, that his brain hadn't suddenly started translating speech in the most outlandish way possible, but he didn't actually want the words to be spoken aloud and pollute the air with their waves.

The bunny rested his cheek on his hand, looking annoyed. “Solicitations—that's Muffet's territory. The very ancient and noble 'science' of soliciting sex. For money. Science of bad decisions, more like.”

Sans stood there, stunned. Asgore looked him over disdainfully.

“Surprisingly, there was some demand for you in that...department. And that was convenient enough for me, so Muffet and I came to an arrangement. I even made back a fair portion of the gold I lost through your foibles. At least it's nice to know you're wanted and useful somewhere for a change, isn't it Sans?”

“B-but Asg—sire...wouldn't I be more valuable to you if I really were in the science d-department? I can still—”

“Oh please. If I had need for you there I would have recruited you a long time ago, and your incessant weeping over your father wouldn't have made a difference. We'd have gotten you to work somehow. As it is, Alphys is handling things just fine.”

“Alphys...the cameras...”

“Ah, yes. I'm sure that caused you some confusion. When some of the cameras were re-purposed for other parties, Alphys was told to look the other way, and she complied. If she's discovered what the 'blank' areas of the Underground are, she hasn't shared her revelation with me.”

Asgore gazed out of a stained glass window.

“A long time ago, after my son died, there was chaos—a surge of the criminal element of the Underground. I had to take control quickly. And then it struck me that, of course, the only way to have _complete_ control of the rotten underbelly of your kingdom...was to control it yourself _.”_

Asgore looked down at him.

“Well? I _am_ still offering you a job, Sans. In polite society, we thank people for favors.”

Was he serious? Was this really happening?

“And if I...don't accept, your majesty...?”

“You will take it.”

The conviction in the king's tone made Sans cringe in on himself. He suddenly had an inkling where Alphys' hunched posture came from.

“As I said, I like your brother, he could be useful—but you do have a way of testing his usefulness to the extreme. These past few months are a prime example. If you don't submit to my terms, I may see fit to strip Papyrus of his position, or perhaps have him killed.”

“But—!”

“ _Silence_. 'But he's too valuable.' 'But why should you punish him because of me.' You think I haven't heard those pleas before, or anything else you could come up with? Yes, he's valuable, but I believe he's proven well enough why he would need to be punished because of you. You will stay in line to keep your brother in line. Those are my terms.”

Asgore leaned down to fix Sans with the full force of his piercing red glare.

“ _And you will take them_.”

This was really happening.

But Sans already knew most of this, didn't he? On some level, he'd known it for a while. When the flower grew cagey about the trackers. The fact that Sans was blindfolded on the trip to Waterfall so he wouldn't recognize his escort as a dog of the royal guard. Hell, probably from the moment he saw the cameras he had a clue to what was really happening to him. No one but Alphys had access to that many cameras, and she didn't have a real reason to do all this unless it went higher up than her. And of course, her boss was...

Sans just hadn't wanted to consider it. Had maybe subconsciously thought that if he ignored it, he would never have to face it. Not that any of the information was surprising, not like it was some kind of disillusionment. No, tell any monster in the Underground that the government was corrupt and you'd get a knowing laugh and a “shut the hell up about it, though.” That wasn't the problem.

It was that now he was fully aware that he was caught in a snow globe, and he could see the glass walls. It was that knowing all this was absolutely worthless, because who could you tell? Who could you go to? At least when it had been some nameless vagabonds extorting Papyrus, that was something the King hadn't wanted. Something with a conceivable out. But now Sans had reached the final authority. You can't break the edge of the world and you can't run to escape it, so being forced to knock on the glass and feel it was there was the cruelest fate Sans could imagine.

“I trust you won't be mentioning any of this to your brother.”

Sans' voice came out hoarse.

“No, your highness.”

“And Sans. You really were quite useless at your previous sentry position. You should be grateful I'm giving you work at all.”

To be forced to knock on the glass and say you liked the way it sounded.

The king turned around and his cape billowed after him. “Isn't that right, Sans?”

That you were glad for the opportunity.

“Yes, your highness.”

To put on a rictus grin and bear it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: sans spreads his legs...for science!!
> 
> im awful  
> I am worst
> 
> stay tuned for "Chapter 11:" a preview of some sequel sceeeenes. I edited several together in the style of a movie trailer because I am the dorkiest and most embarrassing person possible
> 
> and then soon....a sequel will happen  
> it'll be here on Ao3 of course, so nobody needs to get lost on the way from here to there okay, and always walk to sequel stories with a buddy. buddy system is imperative for good sin times. Thank you and good night
> 
> (to see some truly great fanart of the fic, me babbling about the fic, and other sin, come join me on my evil tumblr: http://germindis-leechlamp.tumblr.com/)


	11. sequel preview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [*the author gets out popcorn as the lights dim. they shake the bag in your face.]
> 
> want some??
> 
> [*you reach in. the popcorn is covered in slug mucous. you feel that you could have seen this coming, but somehow you don't regret it.]

**Red Light District**

 

_If this experience taught Sans anything, it was that even if the worst thing happened to you, it was still possible to get used to it._

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

The dog yanked on the collar around Sans' neck, pulling Sans' head down and forcing him to hunch over the arm of the couch.

“Ohhh, Sansy, you don't know how long I've wanted to treat you like this. Since way back when you skeleton assholes came into town and started ordering us around like you owned the place. I just wanted to bend you over and shoot a load into you like the bitch you are.”

Sans' breath was shallow.

“What's wrong? I thought you liked puns.”

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

_In a lot of ways, it was just like any other job._

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

The mouse swiped the pudding from his tray and put it on their own tray.

“That one's not for you.”

The hell if he was going to be pushed around by the only monster here smaller than him.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

_Sans cycled through his fair share of jobs when he and Papyrus were younger, after Gaster died. To try to make up for his long mourning period, Sans took on as many jobs as he could back then, and most of them were wretched._

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

Sans went up to her and was immediately assaulted by more hands than were strictly necessary twisting over each other to fix his tie. The mess of hands straightened themselves out elegantly and pulled away to reveal a perfect windsor.

“Everyone cries on the first day.”

Sans went stiff. He stared at her.

She regarded him with disarming kindness. “I could hear you, dearie.”

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

_All of his past jobs involved wretched people, and wretched bosses, and wretched work. The best thing about jobs had always been the breaks._

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

Frisk stopped Sans before he opened the door.

“Kid, w-what are—how are you—”

“Never mind; don't go in there.”

“I uh...I have to. It's complicated. Adult life is basically doing the most heinous things imaginable on repeat like it's some kind of fucking worst-of MTT reruns, shit sucks, never grow up kiddo.”

“You don't have to do this and you're not going to.”

Frisk grabbed Sans by the hand and dragged him away from the door. They led him down the corridor so fast, it felt like they were flying.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

_Now he still had his fair share of terrible clients, awful days, and disgusting work, but how was that much different from before?_

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

He woke up in Waterfall in Onion's chamber. He had been left in a pile at the door. Onion waited at the edge of the pool. Sans stood up shakily. His wrists were bound behind his back.

“You're in trouble again, Sans?”

Sans' voice was small. “yes.”

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

_And if doing this meant that Papyrus got to keep the job of his dreams and didn't have to worry over his useless brother, well._

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

Sans took heaving breaths. “What is that. What _is_ that.”

“That's _extremely rude_. That's our friend. Alphys let us borrow them on good behavior. They've been cooped up for a while, so we thought they deserved a good time. And you're all about good times, aren't you Sansy?”

“w-what?”

“You're going to show them a good time, pup.”

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

_It was quite literally the least Sans could do._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey if you get hungry for content between chapters, there's always my evil tumblr:  
> http://germindis-leechlamp.tumblr.com/
> 
> I did a livestream drawing of porn from chapter 4 recently, and it won't be the last stream I do, so come on over and check my tumblr for updates on the next one! Come see my funky mug and listen to me play megalovania on kazoo, we'll have a grand old time together.
> 
> AND THANKS SO MUCH, EVERYONE. Seriously, you made this so much fun. I hope to see you guys again for Red Light District! I would say "tell your friends" but depending on the nature of your friendships, we may wanna keep this horror porn a sweet little secret between us. <3


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